pWA  R  W  I  C  K      J  A  M  E,  S        P  K  I 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  O^  CALIFOHNIA 
DAVIS 


Stephen  the  Black 


BY 


Tuth 


AROLINE  H.  PEMBERTON 

•or  of  "  Your  Little  Brother  James" 


PHILADELPHIA 

GEORGE  W.  JACOBS  &  CO 

103-105  SOUTH  FIFTEENTH  STREET 


Copyright,  1899,  ty 
GEORGE  W.  JACOBS  &  Co 


"  Look  not  upon  me  because  I  am  black, 
Because  the  sun  hath  looked  upon  me  ! 
My  mother's  children  were  angry  with  me ; 
They  made  me  the  keeper  of  the  vineyards  ; 
But  mine  own  vineyard  have  I  not  kept." 
— SONG  OF  SOLOMON. 


Stephen  the  Black 


CHAPTER  I 

ONE  Sunday  morning  in  April,  Wesley 
Anderson  sat  as  usual  before  the  door  of  his 
cabin  under  the  shade  of  a  fragrant  China- 
berry  tree.  A  hazy  cloud  of  gnats  which 
shared  with  him  the  sweet  odors  and  the 
pleasant  shade  did  not  disturb  his  meditations. 
This  black  field  hand  of  an  Alabama  plantation 
was  enjoying  an  hour's  restrospection,  much 
as  a  New  England  farmer  enjoys  his  weekly 
newspaper.  The  events  of  the  past  thirty- 
three  years  lay  open  before  him,  and  he  re 
called  them  deliberately,  as  one  reads  from  a 
newspaper  the  occurrences  of  the  past  week. 

These  memories  were  made  up  mostly  of 
national  events,  in  which  his  own  personality 
was  lost  in  the  great  issues  of  American  his 
tory.  His  long,  black,  knotty  hand  clasped  a 


6  Stephen  the  Black 

worn  and  greasy  Bible  firmly  by  the  cover, 
and  the  other  lay  spread  out  on  its  open  page, 
as  if  to  draw  inspiration  through  contact.  But 
Wesley's  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  great  expanse 
of  ploughed  land  that  lay  before  him,  nearly 
all  of  it  bearing  the  marks  of  his  own  toil. 
The  impress  of  his  plodding  feet  in  the  wet 
earth  was  observable  at  close  range,  for  they 
had  trudged  behind  the  plough  immediately 
after  a  recent  heavy  rain.  His  eyes  were  gaz 
ing  into  space  and  saw  not  the  field,  or  the 
deep  furrows,  or  the  tiny,  sprouting  leaves 
of  the  cotton  plant  just  beginning  to  show 
between  the  furrows,  or  the  fringe  of  dark 
woods  beyond,  which  met  a  range  of  soft 
white  clouds  on  the  edge  of  the  horizon. 

He  saw,  instead,  soldiers  in  blue  and  grey; 
dashing  horsemen,  fire,  flame,  smoke  and 
ashes;  houses  burning,  women  and  children 
fleeing,  while  screams,  groans,  cheers,  curses, 
bugle  calls  and  merry  marches  rang  in  his  ears. 

With  solemn  enjoyment  he  recalled  many 
an  incident  in  his  personal  experience.  He  re 
membered  his  week  of  terrible  anxiety  in  the 


Stephen  the  Black  7 

swamp  back  of  "Old  Massa's"  plantation, 
where  he  lay  concealing  twelve  mules  by  his 
master's  orders  while  Wilson's  troops  were 
passing  through  the  country  like  avenging 
angels.  This  military  event  is  officially  re 
corded  as  a  vigorous  raid  planned  by  General 
Sherman  during  the  siege  of  Atlanta,  but  in 
the  annals  of  the  blacks  of  that  neighborhood 
it  has  crystallized  into  folk-lore  as  "Wilson's 
rage," — that  hero  having  been  unable,  it  was 
supposed,  to  suppress  any  longer  the  violence 
of  his  splendid,  righteous  anger. 

Wesley  recalled  the  day  when  he  left  the 
swamp  to  get  fodder  for  his  mules,  and  met  a 
scouting  party  of  Union  soldiers  as  he  was 
climbing  a  fence  that  separated  his  master's 
fields  from  the  public  road. 

A  short  colloquy  took  place,  every  word  of 
which  was  engraved  on  his  memory.  Al 
though  he  had  repeated  it  many  hundred 
times  since,  not  a  word  nor  an  accent  had 
been  changed  from  the  original  dialogue: 

"  Hallo,  John,  you  know  the  roads  between 
here  and  Selma? 


8  Stephen  the  Black 

"Yes,  sah,  I  know  de  roads  off  dis  way  for 
twenty  mile  front  o'  yer." 

"  Who  lives  in  yonder  white  house  ?" 

"Massa  Anderson,  sah." 

"Who's  at  home  there ? " 

"Dere  ain't  supposed  to  be  nobody  dere 
but  us  niggers, — dere  ain't  supposed  to  be,  sah." 

"I  asked  you  who  is  there.  Speak  out  like 
a  man." 

"Massa  Anderson's  dere,  sah,  when  he  ain't 
hidin'  from  de  conscripts  or  de  Yanks." 

"What  is  he,  a  Reb?" 

"He  ain't  neither  Reb  nor  Yank;  he  hide 
from  bofe,  sah.  He  don't  want  de  Yanks  to 
take  his  cattle  an'  his  niggers,  and  he  don't 
want  de  Rebs  to  take  hisself  and  make  him 
fight.  He  just  want  to  be  let  alone,  sah,  until 
dis  crule  wah  be  over." 

"I'll  leave  him  to  take  care  of  his  skin,  but 
you  come  with  me,  my  man,  and  tell  me  some 
things  I  want  to  know  about  the  lay  of  the 
land  ahead.  Got  a  mule  ?" 

"I  kin  git  one,  sah,  but — Massa  Anderson 
he  tole  me  to  keep  his  mules  whar  dey  be." 


Stephen  the  Black  9 

"Get  your  mule  and  be  quick.  I  don't 
want  to  hear  what  Massa  Anderson  said.  He 
ain't  your  master  now.  You're  a  free  man. 
Get  your  mule  and  join  me  over  there  by  that 
little  bridge.  Be  quick." 

It  was  thus  that  freedom  had  come  to 
Wesley,  informally  and  incidentally,  as  if 
merely  to  suit  the  convenience  of  a  military 
detachment  that  happened  to  be  passing  by. 
With  the  rest  of  his  race  he  had  hoped  for 
freedom  when  the  war  first  broke  out,  but  it 
had  never  entered  his  head  that  this  mighty 
change  was  to  be  brought  about  by  a  few  care 
lessly  uttered  words  of  an  obscure  Union  officer 
commanding  a  mere  handful  of  men.  News 
of  Lincoln's  Proclamation  had  traveled  slowly 
in  the  cotton-growing  states,  and  reached  the 
Anderson  plantation  more  as  a  rumor  than  a 
statement  of  fact.  Wesley  had  often  pictured 
Lincoln  with  arms  raised  to  heaven  pronounc 
ing  the  wonderful  words: 

"By  the  grace  of  God  these  bonds  are 
broken, — you  are  now  free!" 

But  that  any  one  but  Lincoln  had  the  right 


10  Stephen  the  Black 

to  utter  such  words  he  did  not  believe. 
Nevertheless  obedience  to  the  authority  of  the 
hour  was  an  old  habit  of  mind,  and  Wesley 
obeyed  the  young  officer  as  he  had  obeyed 
his  poor  old  skulking  master,  but  with  a  much 
more  joyful  heart.  He  accepted  him  as  a  new 
master  and  served  him  devotedly,  though  still 
convinced  at  heart  that  freedom  had  not  yet 
come. 

Old  Wesley,  sitting  under  the  shade  of  the 
China-berry  tree,  thirty-three  years  afterward, 
remembered  distinctly  all  his  ignorant  sur 
mises  on  this  subject,  and  with  a  half  smile, 
followed  closely  the  line  of  thought  which 
had  led  him  from  incredulity  into  the  full 
knowledge  of  his  freedom.  The  conscious 
ness  of  it  had  dawned  upon  him  when  he 
found  himself  standing  one  day  in  a  soldier's 
uniform. 

As  the  old  negro  recalled  the  scenes  of  his 
military  life,  he  smiled  proudly,  and  gazed 
with  a  rapt  expression  at  the  distant  horizon. 
His  soldier's  life  had  been  brief.  It  did  not 
begin  until  the  last  year  of  the  war.  It  in- 


Stephen  the  Black  1 1 

eluded  one  terrible  battle, — during  which  the 
blacks  were  mowed  down  like  grass  all 
around  him; — some  long,  dusty  marches,  some 
horridly  sickening  sights;  it  was  more  con 
fused  than  any  other  set  of  reminiscences,  but 
it  ended  in  an  exalted  climax. 

The  last  scene  in  the  glorious  panorama  of 
memory  which  for  one  hour  obscured  the 
ugly  reality  of  a  poor  field-hand's  dreary  ex 
istence,  was  the  entry  of  the  black  troops  into 
the  city  of  Richmond.  Wesley  now  beheld 
himself  seated  on  a  high,  bony,  long-necked, 
brown  mare,  surrounded  by  innumerable 
black  faces  looking  still  darker  in  the  shadow 
of  their  soldier's  caps.  With  gleaming  eyes 
they  gazed  in  awe-struck  triumph  at  the  va 
cant  streets  and  burning  houses,  to  the  right 
and  left,  from  which  the  owners  had  fled.  No 
white  face  did  he  remember  on  those  streets, 
but  from  doorways  and  windows,  astonished, 
rapturous  black  countenances  peered  forth, 
while  black  hands  were  raised  to  heaven  and 
awe-stricken,  trembling  voices  chanted  praises 
to  the  Lord  Jesus. 


12  Stephen  the  Black 

At  that  moment,  Wesley  had  seen  what  he 
thought  was  a  vision  of  the  near  future.  He 
saw  his  whole  race  freed,  uplifted,  glorified. 
He  saw  his  children  and  his  children's  children 
occupying  positions  of  honor  and  responsi 
bility.  He  beheld  them  reading  the  white 
man's  books,  attending  the  white  man's 
school,  and  reading  aloud  to  each  other  the 
thoughts  of  the  illustrious  white  man  across 
the  ocean, — that  Mr.  Shakespeare,  for  instance, 
of  whom  the  white  folks  were  always  talk 
ing, — doubtless  they  were  even  to  read  Mr. 
Shakespeare's  books  aloud  to  each  other  and 
to  their  children!  It  had  been  whispered  in 
his  ear  once  by  a  very  knowing  housemaid 
that  this  Mr.  Shakespeare  had  written  a  book 
about  a  black,  for  she  had  seen  his  picture  in 
her  master's  library. 

This  book  and  all  the  other  wonders  of  the 
world  were  to  be  within  the  reach  of  his 
people.  They  had  reached  the  "promised 
land";  all  behind  them  lay  misery,  degrada 
tion  and  suffering;  all  before  them  lay  honor, 
happiness  and  prosperity,  held  securely  within 


Stephen  the  Black  13 

the  protecting  arms  of  the  good  Lincoln,  and 
the  mighty  armies  of  the  North.  Their  pa 
tient  faithfulness  had  won  at  last  the  love  of 
heaven.  Looking  over  his  horse's  head,  Wes 
ley  beheld  the  apotheosis  of  the  black  race; 
they  were  to  be  as  gods  in  comparison  with 
what  they  had  been.  Not  by  their  own 
might,  but  by  the  hand  of  the  Lord  Jesus, 
were  they  now  to  be  raised  up,  and  every 
thing  was  to  be  as  it  had  never  been  before! 

Wesley  gave  a  deep  sigh,  for  the  climax 
was  reached  in  his  reminiscent  dream.  A 
dreary  waste  of  years  lay  between  those  dra 
matic  scenes  and  to-day,  during  which  the 
sublime  hope  of  his  race  had  burned  feebly 
and  without  enthusiasm. 

The  prophetic  spirit  which  had  seemed  to 
stir  his  soul  on  that  day  when  the  Union 
army  took  possession  of  Richmond  must 
have  been  a  false  spirit,  or  at  least  a  very 
shortsighted  one.  It  gave  no  hint  of  the  des 
ert  of  grinding,  unremunerative  toil  through 
which  he  and  his  people  had  been  plodding 
since  the  war.  Ignorance  enveloped  them 


14  Stephen  the  Black 

still,  as  in  the  days  of  slavery.  They  worked 
steadily  and  uncomplainingly,  but  only  a  very 
few  of  them  had  land,  houses,  money,  or 
education.  They  lived  in  the  same  miserable 
cabins;  they  toiled  for  the  benefit  of  others; 
they  reaped  not  what  they  sowed. 

With  trouble  in  his  eyes,  Wesley  scanned 
the  distant  horizon  for  an  answer  to  the  ques 
tion  which  he  now  propounded  to  himself, 
timidly  and  with  much  humility, — why  should 
the  Lord  Jesus  have  taken  such  pains  to  free 
his  people,  if  they  were  not  worthy  of  a  bet 
ter  fate  than  this  ?  Why  so  much  shedding 
of  blood, — ay,  and  of  the  white  man's  blood 
too,— if  his  people  were  not  to  be  lifted  up 
after  all  ? 

Far  away  indeed  seemed  those  beneficent 
beings  whom  he  had  once  known  and  rever 
enced  under  the  name  of  ''Yanks."  How 
they  had  rushed  down  from  their  mountain- 
tops  and  their  magnificent  golden  cities  (Wes 
ley  had  always  pictured  them  as  living  on 
mountain-tops  and  in  cities  like  the  new  Je 
rusalem)  to  gather  up  his  people  by  the  hun- 


Stephen  the  Black  15 

dreds  and  thousands  as  they  marched  through 
the  plantations  of  the  South, — not  only  the 
men  who  were  able  to  work,  and  fight,  but 
the  helpless  women  and  children  as  well. 
They  scooped  them  all  up  as  they  went 
marching  through;  the  word  was  always 
"  Come  along,"  to  young  and  old,  babies  and 
little  children,  old  men  and  old  women.  A 
guard  of  young  fellows  marched  back  of 
them,  and  the  great  army  ahead  of  them,  and 
the  cannon  beside  them,  and  thus  those  heroes 
went  through  the  country  they  had  conquered, 
"  setting  his  people  free! " 

It  did  not  occur  to  Wesley  that  this  was  a 
measure  of  war  and  a  political  necessity.  To 
his  unsophisticated  mind  it  was  pure  benevo 
lence.  And  they  did  not  leave  them  to  starve 
either,  he  reflected.  He  remembered  the  great 
camp-fires  of  the  Union  army,  over  which  had 
hung  pots  full  of  fragrant  messes,  and  others 
full  of  steaming  coffee — all  for  his  people! 

"Dey  acted  like  dey  loved  us  in  dose  days," 
mused  Wesley,  in  his  perplexity,  as  he  rubbed 
a  black  finger  up  and  down  his  forehead  to 


16  Stephen  the  Black 

smooth  out  the  creases,  "but  I  reckon  dey'se 
forgot  our  black  faces  'cause  we  ain't  slaves 
no  mo'  and  dere  ain't  no  more  crule  wah  to 
bring  'em  down  dis  yere  way.  We's  in  de 
wilderness  now;  dat's  whar  we  be, — not  in 
bondage,  praise  de  Lord,  but  in  de  wilderness, 
whar  de  chillen  o'  Israel  pass  forty  year  arter 
dey  come  out  o'  bondage;  ya-as,  dat's  so — 
forty  year." 

Wesley  began  to  count  on  his  fingers  the 
years  following  the  war,  for  in  this  calculation 
there  was  abundant  food  for  thought.  He 
rubbed  his  eyes  and  smiled  to  himself  as  his 
simple  mind  seized  on  what  seemed  to  him 
an  extraordinary  analogy.  He  reflected  that 
there  would  be  an  opportunity  that  afternoon 
to  expound  this  new  scriptural  view  to  many 
of  his  neighbors  and  friends  when  they  as 
sembled  at  the  turn  of  the  road  in  the  little 
frame  building  that  served  as  schoolhouse 
and  church.  There  would  be  many  present 
who  were  known  to  be  chronic  grumblers 
and  were  never  weary  of  chanting  their  dis 
content  in  and  out  of  season,  Some  were 


Stephen  the  Black  17 

fond  of  saying  that  they  might  just  as  well 
be  slaves  again;  they  didn't  have  to  work  any 
harder  in  the  old  days  than  they  did  now. 
Wesley  counted  these  as  lazy  fellows,  but 
there  were  many  earnest,  plodding  souls 
against  whom  this  reproach  could  not  be 
brought,  and  who  like  himself  had  moments 
of  profound  discouragement  over  their  own 
prospects  and  the  future  of  their  race.  One 
of  these,  a  frail,  gentle  old  man,  had  ventured 
so  far  as  to  whisper  once  to  Wesley  his  soul- 
benumbing  doubt  that  the  Lord  Jesus  in  His 
heart  really  could  not  care  as  much  for  His 
black  children  as  He  did  for  His  white  ones. 

"  Tears  like  He  kinder  feel  'shamed  o'  His- 
self  once  in  awhile  for  neglectin'  us,  and  He 
make  amend  all  to  once,— and  den  He  forgit  us 
agin  and  not  look  arter  us  for  anudder  long 
spell  widout  somefin'  happen  to  remind  Him, — 
an'  den  He  feel  shame  ag'in,  and  stir  Hisself 
up  real  hard  to  do  somefin'  great;  but  I  'spec' 
it  do  cause  Him  a  heap  o'  trouble  to  keep  His 
black  chillen  in  mind, — what  you  tink  o'  dat, 
Brudder  Anderson  ?" 


i8  Stephen  the  Black 

But  Wesley  had  not  agreed  with  this  view, 
and  he  now  felt  that  he  could  effectively  re 
lieve  his  doubting  brother's  mind  as  to  the 
Lord's  intentions  regarding  His  black  children. 
He  determined  to  spare  no  pains  to  make  his 
argument  clear  to  his  hearers  by  fortifying 
himself  with  numerous  texts  and  much  pray 
erful  study  of  the  subject  beforehand.  He 
turned  over  the  pages  of  his  Bible  to  the  book 
of  Exodus,  which  he  knew  contained  the  nar 
rative  he  wanted,  but  hard  as  he  rubbed  his 
spectacles,  long  as  he  gazed  at  the  black  letters 
on  the  page,  they  refused  to  deliver  up  the 
message  of  the  text. 

"De  chillen'll  read  it  to  me,  dey'll  be  back 
soon,  I  reckon,"  he  murmured,  patiently. 

Raising  his  eyes,  he  was  able  to  discern  two 
slender  figures  climbing  the  fence  that  separated 
the  cotton-field  from  the  thick  woods  against 
the  horizon. 


CHAPTER  II 

A  BOY  of  fifteen  and  a  girl  of  eighteen  came 
slowly  into  view  carrying  a  bucket  of  water 
between  them.  Wesley  observed  them 
thoughtfully.  Their  slight,  thinly-clad  figures 
were  sharply  outlined  against  the  background 
of  dull  earth  and  cloudless  sky.  Their  cloth 
ing  looked  colorless  and  their  faces  black,  but 
as  they  drew  near  it  was  noticeable  that  while 
the  boy  was  dark-skinned,  the  girl's  face  was 
shadowed  by  a  large  sunbonnet,  and  as  she 
lifted  her  head  to  speak  to  her  grandfather,  the 
young  face  in  the  recess  of  the  bonnet  ap 
peared  fair,  rosy,  and  beautful.  A  waving 
lock  of  black  hair  blew  across  her  temples;  she 
pushed  it  back  with  a  hand  that,  while  it  was 
browned  by  exposure  to  the  wind  and  sun, 
was  to  all  appearances  the  hand  of  a  white 
woman.  The  grandfather  of  these  two 
strangely  assorted  children  of  one  mother — 

each  apparently  representing  a  separate  race — 
19 


20  Stephen  the  Black 

eyed  them  with  more  than  his  usual  gentle 
ness,  though  his  words  indicated  a  feeble 
effort  at  reproof. 

"  You  hadn't  ought  to  wear  yer  good  shoes 
to  git  water,  Tressy.  De  wet'll  spile  'em, 
chile." 

"Wet  ain't  spiled  'em  yet,"  answered  the 
girl,  examining  each  shoe,  solicitously. 

"Dat's  'cause  I  done  tote  de  pail  all  de 
way,"  remarked  her  brother,  opening  his  big 
black  eyes  upon  her  with  an  air  of  reproach. 
"Tressy,  she  don't  look  whar  she  go,  grand- 
pap.  Yer  mought  tink  she  war  in  love,  so  yer 
might,  by  de  way  she's  been  actin'  o'  late. 
Says  she  ain't  agwine  to  skule  no  more. 
What  yer  tink  o'  dat,  now,  grandpap  ? 
Tressy  don't  'predate  de  'vantage  what  a  edi- 
cation  give  yer,  do  she,  grandpap  ?" 

"  I  ain't  said  I  didn't  want  to  go  to  skule  no 
more,"  cried  the  girl,  plaintively.  "I  said  I 
didn't  want  to  go  no  more  to  nigger  skule; 
that's  what  I  said,  an'  no  more  I  do,  'cause  no 
nigger  can  learn  me  what  he  don't  know  his- 
self.  What's  use  in  a  big  girl  like  me  settin' 


Stephen  the  Black  21 

down  aside  a  heap  o'  little  chillen  and  heark- 
enin'  to  a  ignorant  nigger  showin'  off  hisself  ? 
I  kin  read  as  well  as  that  teacher  we  had  las' 
winter." 

Lemuel  rolled  his  eyes.  "My!  Tressy! 
Yo'  dunno  yer  mul'cation  tables!  " 

"  I  know  'em  as  well  as  teacher.  He  dunno 
know  how  many  time  nine  go  into  sixty-tree 
till  you  tole  him  yo'self  when  he  was  doin' 
that  long  sum  on  er  blackboard  afore  de 
county  superintendent — an'  him  mos'  killin' 
hisself  a-laughin'  at  de  kind  o'  skule  de  niggers 
war  a-keepin'  up!" 

"He  forgot  hisself,  I  reckon,"  interposed 
her  grandfather,  hastily.  "Yer  mustn't  look 
down  and  despise  yer  perfessors,  chillen;  dat 
perfessor,  I  dare  say,  was  all  struck  down  in  a 
heap, — obfustocated,  as  de  sayin'  is,  by  de 
presence  o'  dat  county  superintendent — a  gran' 
white  gentleman  come  to  look  him  up  and 
see  if  he  war  obstructin'  de  youth  o'  de  coun 
try  like  he  should.  It  war  like  to  make  him 
skairt  and  narvous,  and  I  'spec'  he  done  forget 
all  he  knowed." 


22  Stephen  the  Black 

"Well,  he  ain't  comirr  back,  anyway,  sence 
he  been  sick,"  said  Lemuel.  "He's  gwine  to 
work  in  a  hotel,  and  dey's  got  anudder  hired 
a'ready  to  finish  out  de  term;  so  dere  ain't  no 
fit  'cuse  fo'  you  not  gwine  to  skule  no  mo', 
Tressy." 

"Don't  argufy,  chillen;  yer  larn  yerselves 
nuffin'  with  argufyin'.  Set  down  yer  pail, 
Tressy,  an'  come  an'  stan'  by  me  an'  read  out 
o'  dis  yere  book.  Lemme  see  how  much  you's 
improve'  in  yer  readin',  or  if  you's  been  back- 
slidin'." 

Theresa  handed  the  bucket  of  water  to  her 
brother,  and,  tilting  her  sunbonnet  far  back 
from  her  forehead,  leaned  over  her  grand 
father's  chair,  placing  one  hand  on  his  shoul 
der  while  with  the  other  she  turned  over  the 
leaves  and  found  the  chapter  he  wanted, — 
pointing  her  finger  to  each  verse  and  drawing 
it  slowly  down  the  page  as  she  read. 

Lemuel  had  deposited  the  pail  hastily  within 
the  cabin,  and  now  stood  listening  with  a 
critical  ear  to  his  sister's  reading.  The  open 
ing  verses  of  the  sixteenth  chapter  of  Exodus 


Stephen  the  Black  23 

fell  smoothly  enough  from  Theresa's  lips. 
Her  soft  voice  began  listlessly  enough  at  first, 
but  the  dramatic  murmurings  of  the  children 
of  Israel  had  always  charmed  her  fancy,  and 
she  read  on  with  much  expression. 

Her  active-minded  brother  found  something 
suspicious,  however,  in  the  unusual  nimble- 
ness  of  Theresa's  tongue.  He  knew  the  limit 
of  her  accomplishments,  and  just  where  her 
careless  eye  and  too  quick  imagination  would 
cause  her  to  stumble.  He  stepped  forward 
and  looked  over  her  shoulder,  following  with 
his  eye  her  swiftly  moving  finger. 

"Why,  Tressy,  what  you  'bout?  You's 
p'intin'  one  place  an'  readin'  t'other!  She's  jes' 
recitin'— dat's  what  she  doin',  grandpap!  Re- 
citin'  ain't  readin',"  he  cried,  excitedly. 

Wesley  pulled  the  Bible  from  the  girl's  hand 
and  looked  at  her — his  ancient,  black  counte 
nance  full  of  distress. 

"Chile,  you  gwine  deceive  yer  ole  gran'dad, 
'cause  he  can't  read  hisself,  an'  has  to  mak'  per- 
tend  ?  Ain't  it  bad  enough  for  a'  ole  man  like 
me  to  mak'  pertend  widout  you's  neglectin' 


24  Stephen  the  Black 

yer  opportunities  like  dis  ?  Dese  opportuni 
ties  is  pore  'nough,  I  grant  yer, — but  dey's  de 
berry  bes'  I  bin  able  to  afford,  an'  I's  worked  < 
soon  and  late  and  scrimped  myself  and  hired 
hands  for  ter  pick  cotton  an'  to  hoe,  so's  to 
keep  you  an'  yer  brudder  out  o'  de  field  an' 
into  skule  while  it  last.  Fo'  de  Lord,  I  done 
widout  'baccy  dese  tree  years  'count  o' 
skulin'  you  two, — done  widout  a  ox  I  might 
a  had,  jes'  fo'  you's  sake.  Now  you  go  de 
ceive  yer  ole  gran'dad  and  pertend  you's 
readin'  when  you's  only  recitin' !  Go  'way, 
Tressy,  I  nebber  tink  you  such  a,  deceivin' 
piece— like  dat."  His  quivering  voice  ceased 
almost  in  a  sob.  Quickly  Theresa  clasped; 
one  arm  around  his  neck  while  she  pressed 
her  young  face  close  to  his  black  wrinkled 
cheek. 

"  I  warrit  deceivin'  yer!  I  kin  read,  most  as 
good  as  that,  but  I  jes  didn't  want  to  take  the 
trouble.  Lemme  sing  to  you,"  she  cried, 
soothingly.  "What  shall  I  sing  yer,  gran' 
dad?" 

The  dark  old  face  became  suddenly  illu- 


Stephen  the  Black  25 

mined;  his  eye  kindled  with  its  old-time  en 
thusiasm, — he  began  to  beat  time  rhythmically 
with  his  hand. 

"Sing  fo'm  de  beginnin' — de  beginnin' ob 
de  gran'  hope  fo'  de  colored  folks." 

He  drew  her  down  to  a  stool  at  his  feet, 
where  she  sat  gracefully,  her  scant  calico  skirt 
barely  covering  her  ankles.  Her  sunbonnet 
had  fallen  off  her  head,  and  her  crisp  black 
hair  displayed  itself  in  two  heavy  plaits  looped 
up  with  a  piece  of  faded  ribbon.  The  two 
faces  bending  closely  together,— one  fair  and 
lovely,  the  other  black  as  ebony,— showed  a 
striking  similarity  of  profile.  Wesley  Ander 
son's  features  reminded  one  of  the  figures 
sometimes  seen  on  Egyptian  monuments, 
and  the  low  brow,  the  arch  of  the  long  nose, 
the  small  ears  and  quivering  nostrils,  were  re 
produced  in  his  granddaughter's  fair  face. 
The  family  likeness  repeated  itself  further  in 
Lemuel's  dark  features,  but  although  he  pos 
sessed  his  sister's  pleasing  regularity  of  out 
line,  the  effect  was  obscured  by  the*  thick 
brown  skin  through  which  no  blush  could 


26  Stephen  the  Black 

make  itself  seen,  and  by  the  crowning  racial 
mark  of  tightly  curling  black  wool  that  grew 
so  low  on  his  forehead. 
Theresa  lifting  a  tremulous  soprano,  began  r— 

"  My  mudder  has  gone  to  ]owc-ney  away  — 
In  de  kingdom,  in  de  kingdom,  in  de  king-afa/w  away," — 

her  voice  rising  and  dwelling  on  each  accented 
syllable  with  the  intense  pathos  of  the  old 
plantation  singers.  She  could  reproduce  ex 
actly  the  cry  of  a  childlike  race,  in  whose 
heart  were  mingled  pain  and  patience  with  a 
long  suppressed  but  never-to-be-extinguished 
hope.  Lemuel  joined  in  the  chorus,  and  after 
they  had  sung  several  more  melodies  in  the 
same  approved,  heart-breaking  style — each  one 
touching  the  long-drawn-out,  high  note  of 
weary  waiting — he  said  impatiently, — 

"  We'se  troo  wid  de  gran'  mis'ry,  gran'dad; 
let's  go  on  wid  de  little  mis'ry;  dose  mis'ry 
songs  mak'  me  feel  bad, — all  broke  up  inside." 
He  laid  his  hand  over  his  cotton  shirt  and 
looked  up  into  his  grandfather's  face  with  a 
woe-begone  expression.  The  old  man  hastily 


Stephen  the  Black  27 

began  another  chant,  waving  both  hands 
dramatically: 

"  De  Lord  spoke  to  Moses  from  Sinai  mountain-top ; 
Said  « Moses,  lead  my  people  until  I  bid  you  stop,' " — 

and  they  sang  with  great  spirit  through  a  suc 
cession  of  verses,  until  Wesley,  with  eyes 
snapping  and  feet  going,  suddenly  checked 
himself  to  whisper  in  piercing  accents — 
"Oberseer  crossiri  de  hedge, — look  out,  ma 
boys,  look  out — "  and  instantly  they  dropped 
their  voices  to 

"  Swing  low,  sweet  chariot,  swing  low ; 
I  don't  want  to  leave  me  behind." 

"  Moses  war  a  gran'  ole  suspicious  character 
in  dem  days — same  as  Abe  Lincoln;  de  two 
o'  'em  was  hated  like  de  berry  ole  debbil," 
chuckled  Wesley,  as  the  children  paused  for 
breath.  "Now,  we's  all  alone,  ag'in; — de 
war's  begun;  ole  massa's  two  sons  is  off  to 
Richmond,  an'  here  we  be  down  in  de  field 
hoein'  an'  diggin'— so  come  on,  boys" — and 
with  a  great  shout  they  all  three  sang  — 

"  Slavery  chain  done  broke  at  last, 
De  Lord  done  set  us  free " 


28  Stephen  the  Black 

until  Wesley,  in  another  dramatic  whisper  in 
dicating  the  approach  of  the  suspicious  over 
seer,  changed  the  song  to 

"  Stay  in  de  field,  stay  in  de  field ! 
Until  de  war  be  ended ; 
Mine  eyes  are  turned  to  de  Hebbenly  gate, 
I'll  keep  on  my  way  or  I'll  be  too  late, 
Until  de  war  be  ended." 

The  children  sang  this  pious  injunction  with 
a  sanctimonious  air  as  directed.  As  they  were 
getting  tired  and  Wesley  himself  was  already 
hoarse  from  his  vocal  exertions,  they  skipped 
to  a  wonderful,  martial  melody,  with  relief 
that  they  had  at  last  reached  this  happy  climax 
which  they  repeated  several  times  as  a  chorus: 

"  Dey  look  like  men,  dey  look  like  men, 

Dey  look  like  men  o'  war ! 
All  armed  an'  dressed  in  uniform, 
Dey  look  like  men  o'  war !  " 

As  they  ended  each  stanza,  Theresa  and 
Lemuel  raised  their  hands  in  the  air,  and  their 
grandfather  waved  his  bandanna  handkerchief, 
in  greeting  of  an  imaginary  procession  of  black 
troopers. 


Stephen  the  Black  29 

"Tears  like  dey  on'y  looked  like  dey  was 
men,"  observed  Lemuel  in  an  injured  tone 
after  they  had  admired  the  procession  in  silence 
for  some  minutes.  "What's  de  good  o'  dem 
sodgers  not  sayin'  dey  was  men  ?  What  was 
dey  feared  for,  gran'dad  ?  " 

Wesley  straightening  his  bent  figure,  an 
swered  with  dignity, 

"Dey  knowed  dey  was  men, — dey  knowed 
it  well  'nough ;  dose  lion-hearted  fellows  was 
feared  o'  nuffin', — but  dey  was  considerin'  de 
feelin's  o'  de  white  folks — an'  dey  suspicioned 
it  mought  kinder  hurt  dere  feelin's  ef  dey  sang 
out  too  bold  'long  side  o'  dem  Yanks.  Ain't  I 
tellin'  yer  allus,  chillen,  we-uns  has  to  consider 
de  feelin's  o'  de  white  folks  ?  Ef  dey  be 
Yanks  or  ef  dey  be  Rebs,— it  mak'  no 
difT'ence." 

Theresa  shrugged  her  shoulders  at  this  ex 
planation  but  Lemuel  accepted  it  with  a  good 
grace,  murmuring,  "dat  so,"  in  a  subdued 
tone.  He  was  sitting  on  the  ground  examin 
ing  his  bare  toes  with  great  interest,  but  pres 
ently  he  raised  his  head  to  say  in  a  dismal 


30  Stephen  the  Black 

snuffle,  "Dere's  a  nigger  down  on  de  Benson 
plantation,  he  say  we-uns  is  all  a-goin'  to  be 
slaves  ag'in,  fo'  long — dat  what  he  say." 

"It  ain't  true, — we-uns  'ill  die  first!"  cried 
Theresa,  rising  and  flashing  her  eyes  about 
with  the  air  of  a  tragedy  queen. 

"Dat  so — we-uns'll  die  first,"  repeated 
Lemuel  in  the  voice  of  his  race, — a  voice 
strangely  acquiescent, — mournful,  yet  touched 
with  faith,  and  so  redeemed  from  fatalism. 
His  eyes  did  not  flash,  but  opened  very  wide 
in  a  prolonged  stare  at  his  toes,  which  he 
continued  to  examine  with  the  same  air  of 
absorbed  interest. 

His  grandfather,  raising  his  trembling  hands, 
was  about  to  begin  an  inspiring  invocation  to 
the  Lord  Jesus,  when  all  three  looked  up  at  the 
sound  of  a  horse's  hoofs  on  the  hard  clay  road 
that  wound  through  the  cotton-field. 

A  young,  handsome  white  man,  neatly  and 
elegantly  dressed  and  riding  a  well-groomed 
black  horse,  drew  rein  almost  at  their  feet. 
He  had  galloped  up  unobserved  until  his 
horse's  forefeet  almost  touched  Wesley's  old 


Stephen  the  Black  31 

boots.  The  little  group  drew  back  startled,  at 
which  the  young  rider  laughed  gaily. 

"Came  to  tell  you,  Wesley,  that  father  says 
you  better  come  early  next  Saturday,  and  he'll 
give  you  first  choice  of  all  the  goods.  He 
wants  you  to  help  him,  anyways." 

"Dese  is  berry  hard  times,  Mr.  Ralph.  Dat 
mortgage  las'  year  done  eat  up  all  de  profit. 
We's  got  to  live  down  most  to  nuffin',  dis 
year.  Folks  say  price  o'  meal's  gone  up — 
bacon  too." 

The  old  darkey  stood  with  uncovered  head ; 
his  forehead  was  seamed  and  scarred  with 
lines  of  care.  The  Bible  had  fallen  to  the 
ground,  and  the  long,  horny  hands  of  the 
field-laborer  were  clasped  together  nervously. 
The  children  had  risen  to  their  feet  and  backed 
away  to  the  cabin-door  at  the  sudden  ap 
proach  of  the  horseman.  Theresa  mount 
ing  the  low  steps  stood  leaning  against  the 
unpainted  door-post  which  was  almost  the 
same  color  as  her  faded  calico  dress.  Her 
bonnet  hung  from  her  hands  by  its  cotton 
strings.  Her  head  drooped;  her  eyes  were 


32  Stephen  the  Black 

downcast,  but  a  rich  color  was  rising  to  her 
cheeks.  She  stood  motionless,  with  her  eyes 
fixed  on  the  steps. 

Young  Aikens  disclaimed  any  knowledge 
of  his  father's  arrangements  in  tones  that  were 
good-naturedly  reassuring.  His  father  would 
make  it  all  right,  he  said.  He  always  did  do 
the  best  he  could  for  his  tenants,  even  at  his 
own  loss.  The  land  was  poor  enough,  and 
cotton  was  bringing  only  five  cents  a  pound, 
but  it  would  be  all  right,  he  knew.  No  tenant 
could  find  a  better  landlord  than  his  father. 
He  always  considered  the  tenant's  interests  as 
well  as  his  own.  He  knew  they  had  to  live  too. 

The  young  man's  eyes  wandered  as  he  spoke 
until  they  fell  on  the  motionless  figure  of  the 
young  girl  in  the  low  doorway.  He  glanced 
toward  her  several  times  during  his  little 
homily  on  his  father's  virtues  as  a  landlord. 
His  eyes  seemed  to  entreat  her  to  come  for 
ward,  but  she  remained  as  before,  mute  and 
downcast.  Lemuel  moved  close  to  the  trunk 
of  the  China-berry  tree,  and  fixed  his  inquis 
itive  eyes  on  the  white  man's  face. 


Stephen  the  Black  33 

The  visitor  asked  the  boy's  name  and  age, 
and  his  relationship  to  Theresa. 

"What  an  absurd  contrast!"  he  exclaimed, 
laughing  and  looking  again  at  Theresa.  Lem 
uel  shifted  his  position,  rolled  the  whites  of 
his  eyes  toward  the  visitor,  and  dug  a  long 
toe  into  the  sandy  soil. 

"  All  de  white  blood  in  de  fam'ly  gone  to 
make  up  Tressy — leff  me  all  black,"  he  ex 
plained,  with  a  melancholy  sigh. 

Young  Aikens  laughed  heartily,  and  his 
eyes  again  entreated  Theresa  to  come  nearer. 
A  dimple  appeared  in  her  cheek,  but  she  re 
fused  to  stir,  shaking  her  head  slightly.  The 
smile  in  Ralph  Aikens'  eyes  died  out  quickly: 
he  turned  his  horse  away  reminding  Wesley 
again  with  a  business-like  air  that  he  must  be 
sure  to  call  on  his  father  early  if  he  wanted 
first  choice.  He  withdrew  a  few  yards  and 
suddenly  stopped,  wheeling  his  horse  around. 

"Tell  your  girl  to  bring  me  a  glass  of 
water,"  he  called  out  in  a  tone  of  command. 

Wesley  turned  to  look  for  his  grandchild, 
but  she  had  already  disappeared  into  the  cabin 


34  Stephen  the  Black 

to  get  the  water.  Presently  she  came  forth, 
holding  a  broken  goblet  in  her  hand.  She 
carried  it  carefully  toward  the  horseman, 
walking  with  such  an  even  step  that  not  a 
drop  was  spilled  as  she  moved  swiftly  toward 
him.  He  took  it  from  her  hand,  drank  a  little 
water,  and  threw  the  rest  away.  His  bold 
blue  eyes  looked  down  deliberately  into  her 
frightened  dark  ones.  Her  left  hand  was  on 
the  bridle  of  his  horse,  and  she  held  out  the 
other  for  the  empty  glass.  The  fairness  of 
the  upturned  face  filled  the  young  man 
with  soft  emotion.  His  eyes  became  less 
bold  as  he  stooped  down  and  said  in  a  low 
voice: 

"Little  one,  don't  be  afraid  of  me;  I  want 
you  to  come  to  my  house  this  evening.  My 
mother  will  let  you  wait  on  table.  Tell  your 
grandfather  she  wants  you  and  will  pay  you 
well,  and  do  you  come  through  the  woods 
about  three  o'clock.  It's  the  pleasantest  way. 
Will  you  come?" 

"Yes,"  whispered  the  girl. 

In    another    moment    he    was    gone,    and 


Stephen  the  Black  35 

Theresa,  pale  to  the  lips,  pulled  her  sunbonnet 
well  over  her  head  to  conceal  her  face. 

"I  reckon  I'll  go  wait  on  Mis'  Aikens' 
company  this  evenin',"  she  said,  with  an  effort 
at  carelessness,  but  not  able  quite  to  suppress 
the  thrill  that  gave  her  young  Southern  voice 
a  deeper  note  than  usual. 

"Ef  yer  don't  keer  for  gwine  to  church,  I 
reckon  yer  might  as  well  'blige  Mis'  Aikens," 
her  grandfather  assented,  dreamily.  He  was 
again  absorbed  in  a  study  of  the  Israelites  in 
the  wilderness. 


CHAPTER  in 

THE  first  year  following  the  close  of  the 
war,  Wesley  Anderson  and  his  fellows  had 
worked  for  their  former  master  on  terms  of 
mutual  concession.  As  there  was  no  money 
to  pass  from  hand  to  hand,  the  basis  of  settle 
ment  was  of  course  the  cotton  crop.  The 
master  was  to  keep  nine-tenths,  and  his  former 
slaves  agreed  to  divide  the  remaining  tenth 
among  themselves.  As  there  were  not  less 
than  twenty-five  negro  families  to  participate 
in  this  division  of  the  tenth,  it  did  not  prove 
very  remunerative.  They  had  all  they  could 
do  to  keep  alive  that  year:  and  the  master  re 
marked  grimly,  "  Fill  up  your  stomach  with 
freedom,  boys,"  when  he  saw  their  disap 
pointed  looks  and  heard  the  apprehensive 
murmur  that  the  supply  of  food  received  in 
exchange  for  the  cotton  would  not  last  them 
until  the  next  crop  was  grown  and  picked.  In 

36 


Stephen  the  Black  37 

a  panic  of  dismal  foreboding,  every  family 
moved  off  the  plantation;  and  some  made 
better  terms  with  neighbors. 

A  few  years  later,  an  agent  from  the  North 
induced  Wesley  to  place  all  of  his  little  sav 
ings  in  one  of  the  Freedmen's  banks,  which 
he  did  joyfully,  after  being  fully  persuaded 
that  the  bank  originated  with  the  "Yanks," 
and  was  controlled  by  those  beneficent  beings. 
It  swallowed  up  his  first  earnings,  and  never  a 
penny  came  back  to  him  or  to  any  of  the 
dusky  children  of  the  Black  Belt.  A  cry  of 
grief  went  from  plantation  to  plantation  when 
it  was  learned  definitely  that  the  banks  had 
gone  to  pieces,  and  the  first  earnings  of  the 
freedmen,  amounting  to  thousands  of  dollars, 
had  disappeared  from  the  face  of  the  earth. 

Months  of  bewildering  discussion  failed  to 
solve  the  mystery  of  that  misplaced  trust. 
There  were  various  theories  advanced.  Some 
held  that  an  inscrutable  Providence  permitted 
"mean  Yanks"  as  well  as  mean  niggers  to 
walk  this  earth.  The  good  Yanks  were  prob 
ably  reduced  in  number  since  the  war, — the 


38  Stephen  the  Black 

bad  ones  having  dodged  bullets  with  the  cun 
ning  agility  that  distinguishes  the  wicked. 
But  Wesley  was  of  the  opinion  that  the  Yanks 
reckoned  they  had  a  claim  on  those  earnings, 
and  if  they  thought  so,  why  of  course  they 
had.  The  other  view  prevailed  more  gener 
ally,  however,  and  many  a  sigh  went  up  for 
the  poor  simple  Yanks  who  lay  under  the  grass- 
grown  battlefields.  If  they  had  lived,  they 
would  have  seen  to  it  that  the  negro  was  not 
robbed  of  the  first  pennies  he  had  ever  earned 
by  free  labor.  It  was  thus  that  these  untutored 
minds  strove  vainly  to  account  for  a  lapse  in 
the  national  conscience  which  permitted  this 
wrong  to  go  unrighted. 

There  was  not  enough  money  on  hand  after 
this  hard  experience  to  buy  food  during  the 
year,  and  they  only  managed  to  live  at  all  by 
borrowing  heavily  from  their  landlords.  The 
terms :  laborer — employer — servant — master — 
workman, — having  an  ominous,  uncertain 
sound,  recalled  the  degradation  of  slavery,  and 
were  therefore  avoided  by  both  sides  in  this 
new,  great,  cooperative  experiment  between 


Stephen  the  Black  39 

those  who  had  never  labored,  and  those  who 
had  never  earned. 

The  timid,  apprehensive  freedmen  argued 
that  to  accept  food  and  clothing  from  the  land 
owner  as  in  the  days  of  slavery,  might  involve 
a  hideous  forfeiture  of  liberty;  so  to  make 
themselves  secure,  each  field-hand  affixed  his 
mark  to  a  document  declaring  the  supplies  to 
be  a  loan  for  which  he  agreed  to  pay  a  pon 
derous  interest  until  the  cotton  was  sold,  the 
same  to  be  deducted  from  his  share  when  the 
day  of  settlement  came  in  the  fall.  This  little 
formality  eased  the  min'ds  of  the  perplexed 
laborers,  and  their  former  masters  talked  pleas 
antly  over  it  among  themselves.  The  price  of 
labor  rose.  Each  man  cultivated  as  many 
acres  as  he  could  till,  with  the  aid  of  his  wife 
and  family,  and  half  of  the  crop  that  he  gath 
ered  was  soon  his  instead  of  a  tenth,  but  it 
was  heavily  mortgaged  in  advance  to  pay  for 
the  year's  supplies,  and  as  the  price  of  labor 
rose  the  interest  on  those  mortgages  rose  also. 

Meanwhile,  that  mysterious  account  of  food 
supply,  mortgage,  and  interest,  which  existed 


40  Stephen  the  Black 

between  Wesley  and  his  landlord,  developed 
always  a  deficit  on  the  side  of  the  tenant 
whenever  Wesley  took  upon  himself  to  move 
without  the  consent  of  his  landlord.  Some 
cherished  possession  had  then  to  be  left  be 
hind  to  balance  the  account,  and  though  Wes 
ley  shrewdly  guessed  that  the  deficit  grew  out 
of  the  landlord's  disgust  at  losing  an  industri 
ous  and  profitable  field-hand,  he  could  whisper 
this  doubt  only  to  those  who,  like  himself, 
were  powerless  to  suggest  a  remedy. 

During  those  thirty  years  of  unceasing  toil, 
many  changes  came  into  Wesley's  domestic 
life.  His  wife  died;  then  his  only  son,  and 
his  elder  daughter.  Evaline,  the  younger 
daughter,  left  him  to  act  as  housekeeper  for 
a  white  man  of  good  birth  and  considerable 
means.  After  an  absence  of  five  years,  she 
returned,  leading  by  the  hand  two  little  chil 
dren,  a  dark-skinned,  woolly-headed  boy  and 
a  fair  girl,  three  years  his  senior.  She  had 
learned  how  to  read  while  in  the  city,  and  spent 
much  of  her  time  teaching  the  children  from  a 
primer. 


Stephen  the  Black  41 

The  one-roomed  log-cabin  was  not  spacious 
enough  to  receive  these  outcasts  without  over 
crowding,  but  nobody's  sense  of  decorum 
was  disturbed  by  the  fact  that  three  genera 
tions  occupied  the  only  room  in  the  house. 
No  romance  was  invented  to  account  for  the 
existence  of  the  children.  They  went  by  their 
mother's  name,  and  if  any  one  asked  who  was 
their  father,  the  answer — "  He  was  a  white 
man,"  was  considered  definite  enough  to  sat 
isfy  the  most  curious.  The  situation  was  not 
unusual.  Evaline  used  to  pick  cotton  occa 
sionally  by  the  side  of  another  woman  whose 
children  were  referred  in  the  same  vague  way 
to  the  anonymous  parentage  of  another  race. 

"Mammy,"  said  one  of  these  little  children 
one  day,  in  very  distinct  tones,  "wha'  fo'  de 
Lord  Jesus  mak'  so  many  colors  o'  us  an'  only 
one  fo'  de  pore  white  man  ?  " 

Evaline,  hanging  her  head,  had  dragged  her 
children  quickly  away  from  the  small  ques 
tioner,  but  the  other  woman  only  laughed  as 
she  jerked  the  light-skinned  child  off  his  feet 
and  set  him  playfully  on  a  heaping  basket  of 


42  Stephen  the  Black 

cotton.  She  kissed  him  in  a  passion  of  ad 
miration  because  he  was  fairer  than  herself. 

Evaline  had  been  unable  to  adapt  herself  to 
the  life  of  an  obscure  field-hand  after  certain 
strange,  brightly  colored  experiences  had 
deepened  her  knowledge  of  a  world  which 
had  now  forsaken  her,  but  on  which  her  mind 
constantly  dwelt.  She  pined  and  drooped 
until  the  cotton  fell  from  her  nerveless  fingers, 
and  the  basket  came  back  empty  from  the 
field.  The  interior  of  the  log-cabin  became  a 
sick-room  with  no  skilled  preparations  to  alle 
viate  suffering,  with  no  other  ministering 
angel  than  that  weary,  bent,  field-hand,  who 
cooked  the  meals,  scrubbed  the  floor,  washed 
and  dressed  his  grandchildren,  and  tended  his 
dying  daughter  between  working  hours  with 
a  breathless,  prayerful  devotion. 

After  the  death  of  Evaline,  the  old  man  was 
sufficiently  experienced  to  take  entire  charge  of 
the  children,  and  life  went  on  in  the  log-cabin — : 
or  rather  in  the  series  of  log-cabins,  for  at  that 
time  they  were  always  moving,— as  monoto 
nously  as  before.  Every  cabin  they  moved 


Stephen  the  Black  43 

into  was  exactly  like  the  cabin  they  had  left, 
sometimes  a  little  more  out  of  repair  and 
sometimes  a  little  less.  The  vast  sea  of 
ploughed  land  surrounding  the  cabins  looked 
just  about  the  same  when  seen  from  one  point 
of  view  as  from  another.  The  only  variety 
was  in  the  season  of  the  year.  In  the  spring, 
the  outlook  was  that  of  dull  earth  and  blue 
sky:  later  it  was  a  green  sameness,  and  then  a 
pink,  yellow,  and  olive  sameness:  and  finally 
a  snowfall  of  ripe  bursting  cotton,  in  which 
the  men  and  women  stood  waist  high  and  the 
little  children  were  entirely  lost  to  view  as 
they  picked  by  the  side  of  their  elders,  closed 
the  circle;  the  last  cotton  snowflake  vanished 
into  the  bag  of  the  gleaners,  and  the  bare, 
brown  earth  was  exposed  again  in  all  its 
furrowed  nakedness. 

Wesley  had  signed  a  new  lease  the  year  my 
story  opens,  and  in  February  had  mortgaged 
the  year's  crop  in  advance  with  the  under 
standing  that  he  was  to  draw  what  he  needed 
from  time  to  time  and  pay  interest  on  the 
whole  sum  from  the  first  of  January.  So  far 


44  Stephen  the  Black 

he  had  drawn  but  little  on  this  account,  and 
the  few  rations  he  had  already  obtained  were 
of  the  poorest  and  cheapest  kind— some  meal, 
molasses,  and  pork  for  daily  use,  with  a  few 
pounds  of  tea,  coffee,  and  brown  sugar. 
After  long  pondering  over  the  conditions  of 
his  existence,  he  had  at  last  concluded  that  it 
was  wiser  to  draw  as  little  in  advance  as  pos 
sible.  He  owned  two  thin  black  pigs,  and  he 
had  obtained  permission  from  Colonel  Aikens 
to  plant  several  rows  of  corn,  sweet  potatoes, 
beans  and  onions, — besides  the  inevitable 
greens, — back  of  his  cabin;  these  he  was 
watching  tenderly,  hoeing  them  carefully 
every  night  on  his  return  from  the  field.  On 
the  whole,  he  felt  that  his  chances  of  coming 
out  ahead  in  the  fall  were  brighter,  for  could 
they  not  live  on  the  green  vegetables  with  a 
little  pork  during  several  weeks  of  summer, 
and  would  not  every  mouthful  raised  from  the 
soil  save  something  from  the  proceeds  of  the 
cotton  crop  ? 

The  little  pigs  were  the  pride  of  his  heart; 
he  often  denied  himself  a  second  helping  at 


Stephen  the  Black  45 

table  that  there  might  be  more  for  the, pigs. 
He  knew  everything  about  cotton-growing, 
but  not  much  about  pigs,  potatoes  and  beans. 
When  he  had  first  begun  to  plant  his  little 
garden,  he  had  consulted  all  the  wiseacres  on 
the  plantation,  but  no  one  could  tell  him  just 
when  the  seeds  should  be  buried  or  exactly 
how  deep  they  ought  to  be  laid  in  the  soil. 
He  had  also  sought  Colonel  Aik^ns'  advice,  but 
the  landlord's  conclusion  was  that  it  didn't 
matter  much;  so  Wesley  had  selected  an 
evening  when  there  was  a  bright  full  moon 
and  made  his  great  economic  experiment 
alone,  with  a  prayer  in  his  heart.  If  it  had 
proved  successful  for  himself  and  his  fellows, 
cotton  would  no  longer  be  king;  but  of  course 
this  poor  field-hand  saw  but  a  very  little  way 
into  the  significance  of  his  new  agricultural 
scheme,  and  Colonel  Aikens,  it  must  be  ad 
mitted,  saw  not  much  further. 


CHAPTER  IV 

RALPH  AIKENS  about  three  o'clock  that  Sun 
day  afternoon  led  his  horse  up  the  steep  bank 
of  a  narrow  stream  (from  which  the  horse  had 
been  drinking),  instead  of  crossing  the  wooden 
bridge  that  spanned  the  brook  just  where  the 
road  entered  a  wood  of  tall  pines  and  water 
oaks.  He  was  paying  very  little  attention  to 
the  horse  which  followed  close  to  his  elbow; 
his  eyes  were  following  the  evenly  shaded 
road  overhung  with  interlacing  boughs  until  it 
emerged  into  a  narrow  cleft  of  sunlight  and 
blue  sky  half  a  mile  beyond. 

After  entering  the  wood,  he  turned  into  a 
bridle-path  covered  with  a  soft  carpet  of  pine 
needles.  The  pines  were  bare  of  branches  for 
quite  a  distance  upward,  leaving  an  open 
space  below  with  a  canopy  of  tree-tops  over 
head.  This  gave  a  solemn  cathedral-like  as 
pect  to  the  woods,  and  the  effect  was  height- 

46 


Stephen  the  Black  47 

ened  by  long  strips  of  colorless  hanging  moss 
which  swayed  from  the  boughs  of  the  oak 
trees.  Unrelieved  by  sunlight,  the  sombre 
streamers  looked  a  rusty  black  in  the  distance, 
as  if  Nature,  in  sorrow  over  her  vanished 
races,  had  draped  her  trees  in  funereal  crepe, 
and  had  forgotten  to  take  the  sad  emblems 
down  until  the  southern  storms  had  torn  them 
into  shreds. 

Ralph  stopped  beside  a  fallen  tree,  and  his 
horse  sniffed  at  a  bunch  of  ferns.  He  jerked 
it  away  from  the  ferns  and  glanced  furtively 
to  the  left.  Some  one  was  approaching;  he 
devoted  himself  to  hitching  the  animal  to  a 
young  sapling.  As  a  slender,  erect  figure 
drew  near,  Ralph  sat  down  and  permitted 
himself  to  turn  toward  it -with  a  smile.  It 
was  Theresa,  in  a  well-starched  though  faded 
chintz  gown;  her  face  was  shadowed  by  the 
inevitable  sunbonnet,  but  exhibited  a  rosy 
glow  as  she  drew  near.  She  raised  her  head 
as  she  stood  opposite  to  the  young  man,  and 
looked  at  him  with  an  expression  of  undis 
guised  adoration.  Her  hands  were  clasped 


48  Stephen  the  Black 

loosely  together.  Her  dark  eyes  seemed  to  be 
full  of  light. 

"Theresa,  child!"  he  cried,  holding  out  his 
hand  eagerly  to  draw  her  to  him.  "I  do  ad 
mire  the  way  you  walk.  Do  you  know,  you 
have  the  step  of  a  princess  ?  " 

"I  was  a-walkin'  to  you,"  the  girl  an 
swered,  in  a  low  voice  and  without  even  the 
ghost  of  a  smile  to  lighten  the  foolishly  tender 
meaning  of  her  words.  Ralph  was  satisfied 
with  a  speech  that  revealed  the  willingness  of 
the  speaker  to  wear  her  heart  upon  her  sleeve. 

"  Do  you  always  say  what  you  mean  as 
neatly  as  that  ?  "  he  asked,  laughing. 

She  nodded,  still  without  smiling,  and  drew 
a  little  nearer,  but  remained  beyond  the  reach 
of  his  hand. 

"  I  asked  you  to  come  here  again  because  I 
want  to  have  a  little  talk  with  you."  (It  was 
evident  they  had  met  here  before.)  "  I  have  a 
great  interest  in  you,  Theresa.  I  want  you  to 
have  everything  that  other  girls  have— other 
pretty  girls,  I  mean,  though  I  don't  know  any 
as  pretty  as  you.  I  want  you  to  have  sur- 


Stephen  the  Black  49 

foundings  suitable  to  your  youth  and  beauty. 
I  should  like  to  see  you  dressed  in  a  beautiful 
silk  gown,  Theresa,  trimmed  with  lace  and 
velvet,  with  a  big  hat  and  a  curling  feather 
drooping  over  your  left  ear;  then  wouldn't 
you  look  like  a  duchess!  " 

He  laughed  awkwardly,  for  the  young  girl 
was  still  looking  at  him  with  her  air  of  inno 
cent  gravity. 

"  You  shall  have  fine  clothes  and  music  les 
sons,  Theresa,  think  of  that!  And  you  can 
go  to  the  high  school,  too,  if  you  want  to.  I 
am  going  into  business  in  Perryville,  and  there 
I  shall  have  a  little  home,  where  you  can  keep 
house  for  me,  and  have  everything  you  want. 
Do  you  understand,  Theresa  ?  " 

Ralph  leaned  forward  and  succeeded  in  tak 
ing  hold  of  her  hand.  His  intention  was  to 
draw  her  into  his  arms,  but  the  young  crea 
ture  stood  firmly  on  her  feet  and  looked  down 
into  his  face.  Ralph,  looking  up  into  hers, 
was  struck  with  the  seriousness  of  her  expres 
sion. 

As  she  still  made  no  answer,  he  went  on 


50  Stephen  the  Black 

hurriedly  in  a  low  voice:  "I  trust  you  will 
do  what  I  wish.  I  shall  never  marry  any  one 
else,  and  if  I  should — but  there  is  no  use  talk 
ing  about  that.  This  union  will  be  sacred  in 
my  eyes,  and  in  the  sight  of  heaven — who 
knows  ?  What  do  you  say,  Theresa  ?  " 

"Am  I  fit  to  be  wife  o'  yourn  ?"  she  asked, 
slowly,  her  low  voice  enunciating  every  word 
with  great  distinctness.  She  pressed  her  hands 
against  her  breast  and  drew  her  breath  quickly. 

"The  law  forbids  marriage  between  the 
races,"  he  answered,  frowning  angrily.  "I 
am  not  deceiving  you,  Theresa.  I  did  not 
make  the  law,  but  I  expect  to  obey  it,  and  so 
must  you." 

"But  I'm  white  too,"  cried  the  girl,  baring 
her  wrist  and  holding  it  out  to  him  for  exam 
ination.  The  tears  sprang  to  her  eyes. 

"My  child,  you  are  white  enough  to  pass 
anywhere  for  a  white  woman, — but  the  only 
marriage  possible  for  you  is  marriage  with  a 
low  black  man.  You  can  escape  that  by 
putting  yourself  into  my  hands.  Look  here, 
Theresa,  when  you  look  me  through  with 


Stephen  the  Black  51 

those  innocent  eyes  of  yours,  I  hope  you  read 
me  plainly  enough.  I  hope  you  know  that  I 
respect,  admire,  and  appreciate — your  inno 
cence.  I  should  like  to  shield  and  protect  you 
always:  I  swear  to  God,  I  should."  His  voice 
trembled  as  he  took  hold  of  both  her  hands. 
He  was  astonished  at  his  own  agitation. 

He  had  not  expected  to  address  such  words 
as  these  to  this  humble  daughter  of  a  despised 
race,  this  outcast  from  his  own  race;  but  there 
was  something  in  the  girl's  face  that  asserted 
an  unusual  purity  of  nature,  and  his  own  un 
consciously  bowed  down  before  it.  He  ac 
cepted  the  fact  that  she  adored  him.  He  knew 
if  he  merely  looked  at  her  it  filled  her  soul 
with  a  tumult  of  joy.  How  could  it  be  other 
wise  ?  Yet  his  impulses,  lawless  as  they  were, 
yielded  an  obedience  to  a  certain  mysterious 
charm  which  he  could  define  only  as  inno 
cence.  It  had  the  effect  of  a  finely  distinct 
personality,  and  the  mental  image  of  the  girl 
ascended  in  his  inner  consciousness  as  if  she 
had  suddenly  mounted  a  marble  pedestal. 
Nevertheless,  in  his  appeals,  he  had  carefully 


52  Stephen  the  Black 

guarded  himself  from  mentioning  the  name  of 
love.  According  to  his  traditions,  neither  love 
nor  marriage  was  possible  between  one  of  his 
race  and  one  of  hers.  Love  might  very  prop 
erly  exist  on  her  side,  but  it  should  not  be 
named  by  him. 

But  Theresa  had  not  observed  the  omission 
of  this  potent  word,  and  gathered  herself  to 
gether  to  make  her  plea  for  an  ideal  justice. 
Her  young  heart  responded  to  the  strong  emo 
tion  of  the  young  man,  expressed  in  his  warm 
glance,  his  faltering  voice,  and  the  strong  clasp 
of  his  hands  on  hers,  rather  than  to  his  argu 
ments  or  to  his  promises  of  glittering  benefits 
in  the  near  future. 

"I  know  I'm  a  poor  ig'rant  girl,  born  and 
raised  'mong  black  folks,  but  I'm  not  black 
myself,  Mr.  Ralph.  Livin'  'mongst  'em  won't 
make  me  black.  It  won't " — she  cried,  free 
ing  her  hands  suddenly  and  clasping  them  to 
gether — "as  long  as  all  my  feelin's  is  white. 
I  shouldn't  dream  o'  lovin'  you  if  I  warn't 
white  myself — white  all  through.  Don't  you 
b'lieve  me?" 


Stephen  the  Black  53 

"I  believe  you  are  pure  of  heart— I  believe 
that,"  answered  Ralph,  with  tenderness. 

"My  mother  was  pure  o'  heart,  gran'pap 
says;  an'  that's  why  she  sees  God  every  day 
like  the  angels.  Ain't  white  ladies  always 
pure  o'  heart  ?  "  Her  face  expressed  a  poetic 
rapture. 

"Some  of  'em,"  Ralph  answered,  with  a 
wry  smile.  For  a  moment  he  looked  at  her 
silently,  with  increasing  dismay.  He  felt  an 
aversion  toward  his  former  scheme,  but 
Theresa  in  her  innocence  helped  him  toward 
it.  She  began  again  shyly: 

"Gran'pap  will  let  me  go  to  you  when  I 
tell  him  a  white  man  loves  me  because  I'm 
white  and  is  gwine  to  liff  me  out  o'  the  hands 
o'  the  blacks  an'  put  me  where  I  b'long,  and 
that  God  will  marry  us,  but  not  the  law. 
Ain't  that  what  you  said  ?  " 

Ralph  flushed.  "It  was  something  like 
that,  but, — oughtn't  you  to  be  afraid  o'  me, 
Theresa  ?  "  he  asked,  with  a  faint,  newly-born 
sense  of  shame  within  him. 

"I'm  not,"  cried  the  young  creature,  with  a 


54  Stephen  the  Black 

look  of  joy.  "  It  don't  matter  about  the  law, 
if  God  approves  what  we  do,  does  it  ?  Gran'- 
pap  says  the  law's  often  wrong." 

"So  it  is,"  cried  her  hero,  casting  aside  his 
scruples.  He  extended  his  arms  and  drew 
her  toward  him.  He  pushed  back  her  sun- 
bonnet  and  kissed  her,  looking  at  her  delicate 
face  with  intense  admiration. 

"Why  do  you  wear  that  ugly  thing?"  he 
whispered.  Theresa  caught  the  loosened 
strings  and  pulled  the  bonnet  firmly  on  her 
head.  She  tore  herself  away  quickly,  and 
leaned  against  an  oak-tree,  while  she  tied 
the  bonnet-strings  with  trembling  fingers. 

"  I  belong  to  black  folks  still.  I'm  not  fit 
to  be  yourn  yet,"  she  murmured,  in  a  choked 
voice  and  a  confusion  of  blushes.  "  I'm  a  ig'- 
rant,  foolish  girl  now,  but  I'm  a-goin'  to  skule 
and  git  a  eddication,  an'  mebbe  some  day 
you'll  'low  I'm  white — white  as  you.  Good 
bye!" 

To  his  astonishment,  she  turned  and  walked 
rapidly  away,  and  although  he  sprang  to  his 
feet  and  called  her  by  name,  her  walk  changed 


Stephen  the  Black  55 

to  a  run  and  she  fled  from  him.  Very  soon 
she  was  out  of  the  woods  and  out  of  his  sight. 

A  red  lizard  crept  from  under  the  log  and 
looked  furtively  into  the  face  of  the  vexed 
young  man,  who  failed  to  observe  it.  A 
striped  snake  poked  out  its  head  and  blinked 
its  small,  malicious  eyes  at  him.  The  lizard 
saw  the  wicked  eyes  and  disappeared  trem 
bling  into  the  decayed  recesses  of  the  log. 
Some  long,  dark  streamers  of  moss  swayed 
mournfully  from  an  overhanging  bough,  for  a 
light  breeze  had  sprung  up. 

In  a  tumult  of  emotion,  young  Aikens 
mounted  his  horse  and  rode  slowly  home. 
He  reflected  that  for  this  fair  child,  with  her 
unfortunate  parentage  and  her  dangerous 
beauty,  there  was  no  better  fate  than  the  one 
he  offered  her.  Undoubtedly  her  happiness 
would  be  safer  in  his  hands  than  elsewhere. 
The  future  he  was  planning  for  her  was  in 
fact  a  benefit  and  a  blessing,  and  that  was  the 
only  sensible  way  of  looking  at  it.  For  she 
was  th6  most  interesting  young  creature  he 
had  ever  seen.  Her  little  heart  was  a  well 


56  Stephen  the  Black 

of  purity  and  love  for  him.  It  was  odd  she 
should  have  assumed  that  they  were  to  be 
married ;  it  was  ridiculous,  laughable,  pathetic. 
It  showed  what  a  child  she  was  to  have  made 
such  a  mistake,  and  Ralph  plumed  himself  not 
a  little  on  his  honesty  in  having  undeceived 
her.  It  was  evident  that  she  had  lived  apart 
from  the  blacks  on  the  plantation,  or  she 
would  have  known  better.  She  would  have 
learned  a  different  morality  from  them,  he 
thought.  What  a  hideous  parody  it  was  that 
this  fair  girl  should  be  a  product  of  their  race! 
It  was  monstrous  that  she  should  have  to  live 
among  them.  He  would  save  her — at  least 
he  would  save  her  from  that  fate,  in  the  only 
way  possible,  and  it  was  rather  convenient  on 
the  whole  that  there  was  only  one  way  of  sav 
ing  her,  and  that  the  law  forbade  his  thinking 
of  any  other.  His  conscience  being  in  the 
keeping  of  the  state,  there  was  no  need  to 
consult  it  further. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  building  that  served  both  as  school- 
house  and  church  for  the  blacks  of  this  neigh 
borhood,  stood  a  little  off  the  road,  and  was 
surrounded  on  two  sides  by  cotton-fields, 
while  in  the  rear  it  was  flanked  by  part  of  the 
same  stretch  of  pines  and  Oakland  in  which 
Theresa  had  met  Ralph  Aikens. 

The  meeting  on  this  particular  Sunday  after 
noon  was  well  attended;  the  day  being  fair, 
the  congregation  was  out  in  its  best  attire. 
The  men,  as  a  rule,  wore  black  suits  which, 
however  soiled,  ill-fitting  or  threadbare,  ex 
pressed  their  yearning  for  social  decorum  and 
gentility.  The  women,  having  no  conven 
tional  rule  to  guide  them,  were  altogether  at 
sea  so  far  as  appropriateness  in  dress  was 
concerned.  Their  costumes  were  varied  ac 
cording  to  the  fancy  of  the  individual,  but  the 
majority  were  clad  in  poor  cotton  stuff,  some 
times  gaily  colored,  but  more  often  faded  from 
57 


58  Stephen  the  Black 

frequent  washing.  Some  of  these  garments, 
now  almost  white,  were  originally  of  a  de 
cided  color,  the  skirt  being  occasionally  of  a 
more  pronounced  hue  than  the  waist.  Their 
hats  were  of  straw,  and  more  often  un- 
trimmed  than  overtrimmed.  A  few  of  the 
girls  were  neatly  clad  in  decent  calico,  and 
some  were  decked  off  with  cheap  lace  and 
ribbons.  The  effect  as  a  whole,  was  less 
pleasing  than  one  might  imagine,  chiefly  from 
the  absence  of  vivid  coloring.  The  sharp  con 
trast  of  black  features  against  the  background 
of  faded,  whitish  gowns  lent  an  effectiveness 
that  failed  somehow  to  be  picturesque.  It 
was  noticeable  that  good  looks  among  the 
women,  were  rare.  Their  figures  as  a  rule, 
were  angular,  and  their  chests  hollow.  The 
older  women  were  bent  and  shapeless;  the 
men  in  this  respect  had  the  advantage. 

The  building  was  of  frame;  the  seats  were 
uncushioned  pine  boards;  the  windows  were 
four  square  holes  closed  by  wooden  shutters. 
Through  two  of  these  open  windows  one 
could  see  a  stretch  of  light  brown  earth,  and 


Stephen  the  Black  59 

a  piece  of  blue  sky  with  white  clouds  sailing 
over  it;  on  the  other  side,  the  woods  were 
visible,  and  some  trees  dipped  their  branches 
almost  into  the  faces  of  the  congregation. 
There  was  no  pulpit.  A  small  reading-table 
stood  near  the  centre  of  the  room,  and  an 
unpainted  desk  with  a  switch  lying  across  it 
had  been  pushed  against  the  wall  in  a  pal 
pable  effort  to  hide  the  school  in  the  bosom 
of  the  church. 

The  minister,  an  elderly  negro,  clad  also  in 
respectable  but  seedy  black,  arrived  in  a  tot 
tering  buggy  drawn  by  an  emaciated  mule. 
The  animal  was  tied  to  a  tree  outside,  and 
feasted  on  what  leaves  and  shoots  it  could 
reach.  Several  other  mules  whose  owners 
came  astride  them  did  the  same  as  far  as 
circumstances  would  permit. 

It  was  quite  a  long  time  after  the  people 
assembled  before  the  services  began,  but  this 
caused  no  annoyance,  for  the  congregation 
dispersed  itself  in  groups  out  of  doors  and 
discussed  matters  of  local  interest.  Two 
choirs  began  to  practice  their  hymns;  one 


60  Stephen  the  Black 

in  the  church  and  one  outside.  There  had 
been  a  division  of  sentiment  in  the  congrega 
tion  on  the  question  of  devotional  music, 
some  insisting  on  a  shouting,  jerking,  tune 
less  kind  of  chant  with  an  accompaniment  of 
crazy  gestures,  and  others  preferring  a  style 
more  in  keeping  with  the  spiritual  longings 
of  the  race.  In  the  fear  of  losing  either  set 
of  disputants  from  his  flock,  the  preacher  had 
settled  the  difficulty  by  pressing  both  choirs 
into  service  and  dividing  the  exercises  between 
them, — this  tolerant,  inconvenient  method  of 
settling  a  question  being  dear  to  the  long-suf 
fering,  absurdly  patient  negro  heart. 

In  the  course  of  time,  the  groups  outside 
broke  up  and  settled  themselves  expectantly 
on  the  hard  benches  within.  The  minister 
began  his  prayer,  but  he  was  evidently  suf 
fering  from  a  severe  cold,  for  his  voice  was 
hoarse  and  weak.  Choir  No.  i  sang  with 
plaintive  fervor, 

"  We  is  walkin*  in  de  light  o'  God ;  " — 

the  minister  prayed  again  and  read  a  selec- 


Stephen  the  Black  61 

tion.  Choir  No.  2  then  started  on  its  bar 
barous  course  with  pounding  of  feet  and 
extravagant  shouts.  The  more  respectable 
members  of  the  congregation  looked  severe 
disapproval;  some  of  the  young  people  snig 
gered.  The  minister  waited  patiently,  hoping 
it  would  soon  be  over.  He  consulted  his 
watch  several  times,  but  the  choir  kept  on. 
There  seemed  to  be  no  end  to  the  verses;  it 
was  impossible  to  tell  what  they  were  sing 
ing  about,  except  that  a  constantly  recur 
ring  chorus  announced, 

"  We'll  soon  leave  de  wilderness  — 
Oh,  brother,  come  along !  " 

The  worthy  man  looked  reproachfully  at  a 
certain  Jerry  Watkins,  the  leader  of  the  choir. 
He  raised  his  hand  and  waved  it  authorita 
tively,  but  Jerry  was  not  looking  at  him,  and  the 
choir  continued  at  full  blast.  The  voices  rose 
louder  and  louder;  the  faces  of  the  young 
women  at  Jerry's  side  showed  increasing 
excitement.  Their  eyes  blazed,  their  heads 
bobbed  up  and  down  rhythmically,  they 


62  Stephen  the  Black 

waved  their  handkerchiefs  and  stamped  their 
feet.  Several  members  of  the  congregation 
were  developing  signs  of  hysteria  and  cried 
out  irrelevantly,  "We's  all  poor  critters." 
Many  of  the  young  people  began  to  laugh 
aloud.  The  meeting  was  on  the  verge  of 
breaking  into  a  scene  of  wild  disorder  and 
emotional  frenzy.  The  minister  coughed 
weakly  and  cast  an  appealing  glance  to  the 
right  and  left,  as  if  imploring  some  one  to 
come  to  his  aid.  He  was  an  old  man,  and 
his  hoarse,  quavering  voice  could  not  be  heard 
against  the  volume  of  sound  that  the  choir 
was  now  pouring  forth. 

A  young  man  then  arose,  slowly  at  first, 
from  his  seat  by  the  window,  and  walked 
quickly  to  the  front.  He  was  a  stranger  to 
nearly  all  in  the  room.  In  his  hand  he  held  the 
switch  that  had  been  lying  on  the  desk  against 
the  wall,  and  he  rapped  sharply  with  it  on  the 
table  before  him. 

"The  choir  will  take  their  seats,"  he  called 
out  in  a  clear,  firm  voice.  In  astonishment, 
they  sat  down,  open-mouthed.  Jerry  Watkins 


Stephen  the  Black  63 

waved  his  singing-book  frantically — he  held  it 
upside  down,  for  his  musical  efforts  were 
wholly  extemporaneous — but  no  one  followed 
him,  and  he  too  sat  down,  mopping  his  brow 
with  an  air  of  having  done  his  duty  like  a 
man. 

"The  brother  on  my  left  will  lead  us  in 
prayer,"  said  the  young  man,  and  retired 
quietly  to  his  seat  by  the  window.  The  brother 
on  his  left  was  our  friend,  Wesley  Anderson. 
He  had  been  sitting  on  the  front  bench  with 
folded  arms;  his  composure  and  air  of  gen 
tle  dignity  had  caused  the  stranger  to  single 
him  out  to  lead  the  excited  assembly  back  to 
moderation  and  decorum. 

Wesley  had  been  longing  for  such  an  op 
portunity.  Speech  was  easy  to  him  when  the 
Lord  told  him  what  to  say,  and  on  this  occa 
sion  the  Lord  had  not  only  prepared  his  mind 
beforehand,  but  had  put  into  the  mouths  of 
the  foolish,  shouting  choir  the  very  words  he 
wanted  for  a  text. 

He  rose  hastily  and  began  his  prayer  with 
honeyed  phrases  designed  to  attract  the  wav- 


64  Stephen  the  Black 

ering  attention  of  the  Lord  Jesus  and  incline 
Him  to  bend  His  ear  toward  His  black  children. 
It  was  necessary  to  remind  Him  forcibly  of 
their  existence  by  relating  with  energetic  ges 
ticulation  their  past  experiences  and  sufferings. 
Wesley's  black,  weather-beaten  face  was 
turned  upward,  while  his  deep  voice  poured 
forth  its  narrative  in  accents  of  piteous  solici 
tation.  Uncultured  and  illiterate  as  he  was, 
the  old  negro  never  hesitated  for  a  word  ;  texts 
and  Biblical  phrases  rolled  from  his  tongue, 
transformed  by  a  vivid  imagination  and  the 
picturesque  dialect  of  his  race  into  new  and 
extraordinary  meanings.  Finally,  it  was  evi 
dent  that  his  utterances  were  addressed  more 
to  the  understanding  of  his  audience  than  to 
the  ear  of  the  Deity. 

"De  Lord  Jesus  know  what  He's  about!" 
he  cried,  clasping  his  hands  together  with  en 
thusiasm.  "He's  a-mindin'  Hisself  agin  o' 
dem  chillen  o'  Israel  ! "  He  warmed  to  the 
old  familiar  theme;  it  was  evident  that  his 
audience  warmed  with  him.  They  listened  as 
if  spellbound  while  Wesley  established  point 


Stephen  the  Black  65 

after  point  in  the  wonderful  likeness  which  he 
beheld  in  the  history  of  the  two  races.  A 
prophetic  light  shone  from  his  eyes;  it  was  the 
light  that  had  illumined  the  darkness  of  slavery 
— the  guiding  star  of  religious  hope  to  which 
this  ignorant  and  degraded  race  had  clung  with 
sublime  faith  through  all  its  wanderings.  The 
time  had  now  come  to  point  out  the  rapturous 
fulfilment  of  an  heroic  trust.  A  new  interpre 
tation  was  visible:  the  day  of  rejoicing  was 
close  at  hand ;  the  Lord  God  was  already  visi 
ble  in  the  burning  bush. 

"Thirty-three  year  done  gone  by,  but  not 
forty,  my  sisters  and  brudders  " — he  continued, 
while  every  face  was  turned  toward  him,  even 
the  children  listening  eagerly — "sence  de 
wah.  De  Lord  Jesus  gwine  to  pass  by  in 
seven  mo'  year;  den  de  colored  peoples  gwine 
to  be  lift'  up  out  o'  dere  tribulations  and  hum 
bleness.  Dey'll  be  set  up  on  high  places,  dey'll 
have  gran'  houses  to  live  in  an'  mules  and  oxen 
to  draw  'em  to  church  like  dey  was  big  folks. 
Blessed  be  de  name  o'  de  Lord  when  de  day  o' 
our  rejoicin'  sets  in,  an'  we's  called  upon  to 


66  Stephen  the  Black 

weep  no  mo',  an'  go  thirsty  an'  hunger  no 
mo',  an'  what  we  plants  an'  hoes  for,  we  reaps 
and  sells  and  puts  in  our  pockets  fo'  de  chillen  at 
home,  an'  not  fo'  de  white  man  to  feed  his  chillen 
upon.  Lord  Jesus,  we  ain't  no  bad  feelin's 
ag'in  de  white  man,  but  teach  us,  Lord,  to  pos 
sess  our  souls  in  patience  fo'  de  day  o'  His 
judgment  until  He  leave  His  marcy-seat!  Sing, 
rejoice,  O  Israel,  and  play  upon  a  harp  o'  many 
strings,  fo'  in  seben  year  mo'  He  deliver  His 
darlin'  fom  de  lions, — He  lead  us  out  o'  dis 
yere  wilderness  when  de  forty  year  is  up. 
Den  He  wipe  ebery  tear  away,  He  giv'  de  staff 
o'  life  into  our  han's  an'  tell  us  to  lean  upon  it 
when  we's  weary  and  heart-broken  and  sad! 
Seven  mo'  year  and  we's  free  o'  dis  yere  wil 
derness,  de  Lord  be  praised!  Amen!" 

Wesley  sank  into  his  seat,  exhausted  by 
the  passion  of  his  eloquence  which  was  now 
having  a  powerful  effect  on  his  hearers.  Their 
heads  were  bowed  and  their  eyes  streaming 
with  tears.  The  feeble  old  minister  came  for 
ward  and  informed  his  flock  in  a  voice  of  deep 
emotion  that  he  reckoned  the  Lord  had  spoken 


Stephen  the  Black  67 

through  the  tongue  of  Brother  Anderson,  and 
he  fully  endorsed  his  doctrine  as  comforting 
and  scriptural.  He  hoped  they  would  accept 
it  as  a  prophecy  and  be  reconciled  to  bear  all 
the  trials  of  their  lot  without  complaining 
during  the  coming  seven  years.  Then  they 
would  be  clear  of  the  wilderness. 

He  sat  down  in  a  fit  of  coughing,  and  the 
young  man  who  had  silenced  the  choir  arose. 
His  manner  was  abrupt;  his  voice  somewhat 
harsh;  he  spoke  hesitatingly  with  his  dark 
hands  pressed  together  as  if  unaccustomed  to 
public  utterance.  Some  of  the  glib  brethren 
were  fearful  that  he  would  break  down  during 
the  first  few  sentences, — a  never-to-be-forgot 
ten  disgrace  in  the  eyes  of  this  oratory-loving 
people. 

"We  black  folks"— he  began,  slowly— " I 
reckon,  don't  need  to  wait  forty  years  for  the 
Lord  to  pass  by.  I  reckon  we  spend  time 
waiting  when  we  might  be  doing.  I  have 
come  here,  friends,  to  teach  school  in  this 
building.  I  hope  to  have  as  good  a  school  as 
there  is  in  the  state  of  Alabama.  But  nobody 


68  Stephen  the  Black 

ever  walked  out  of  such  a  wilderness  as  we're 
in  now  without  going  through  one  door,  and 
that's  the  door  of  the  schoolroom.  I  want 
you  to  send  your  children  to  school  to-morrow 
and  keep  them  here  every  day,  and  I  promise 
you  that  every  day  those  children  come,  if  it's 
from  now  until  next  December  they'll  find  me 
here  to  teach  them." 

A  peal  of  thunder  and  a  flash  of  lightning 
caused  the  speaker  to  pause.  He  glanced  at 
the  open  windows,  through  which  the  rain 
was  beginning  to  splash  in.  To  close  the 
shutters  would  leave  the  building  in  darkness, 
but  it  was  the  only  way  to  keep  the  rain  out. 
The  women  began  to  murmur  and  to  edge 
away  from  the  walls,  out  of  reach  of  the  rain, 
which  was  fast  settling  into  a  heavy  pour. 

"Look!"  he  cried,  reproachfully,  waving 
one  hand  toward  the  nearest  window, — "  not 
a  pane  of  glass  in  this  building  !  If  you'll 
help  pay  for  the  material,  I'll  undertake  to  put 
glass  windows  in  this  church  so  we  can  wor 
ship  God  here  without  fear  o'  getting  soaked, 
and  the  little  children  can  see  their  books  in 


Stephen  the  Black  69 

school  without  shivering.  We  need  a  tight 
roof,  too,"  he  added,  glancing  up  at  the  drops 
of  water  which  were  now  trickling  from  the 
rafters. 

"  Dis  yere  ain't  de  time  nor  de 'casion  for 
to  talk  o'  fixin'  winders  an'  mendin'  roofs," 
said  Jerry  Watkins,  rising  from  his  seat  to  ad 
dress  the  presumptuous  teacher  in  tones  of 
mingled  grief,  scorn,  and  stern  reproof. 
"We's  come  here  for  sperritual  comfort  an' 
not  to  be  told  tales  o'  our  poverty-stricken- 
ness.  '  Blessed  be  de  pore  in  sperrit,'  an,  we's 
pore  enough  I  reckon  to  grab  all  dat  blessin'. 
Ef  dere  be  a  hole  in  yonder  roof,  what  dat 
signify  ?  What  it  signify  ef  de  rain  do  come 
troo,  ef  we  kin  look  up  an'  behold  de  count- 
'nance  o'  de  Lord  Jesus  peerin'  down  from  His 
marcy-seat  to  spy  on  de  doin's  o'  His  black 
chillen  in  dis  yere  old  shanty?  Warn't  de 
Lord  on  hand  an'  mighty  nigh  when  de  poor 
nigger  folks  prayed  for  freedom  in  dem  ole 
bush  arbors,  jes'  for  all  de  world  like  dem  bush 
arbors  war  gran'  temples  o'  marble  an'  pre 
cious  stones  ?  I  'spec'  de  Lord  Jesus  '11  mend 


yo  Stephen  the  Black 

dat  roof  bime-by  when  He  git  ready— like 
enough  when  de  seben  mo'  year  done  pass 
by  dat  Brudder  Anderson  speak  about." 

These  remarks  produced  a  peculiar  effect  on 
the  darked-skinned  stranger.  His  eyes  flashed 
and  his  face  quivered  as  he  came  forward  again 
with  an  imperious  gesture.  In  the  excitement 
of  the  moment,  his  embarrassment  vanished; 
his  speech  became  singularly  clear  and  persua 
sive;  soon  it  took  on  a  deep-toned  eloquence. 

"Oh,  my  people,  my  poor  people!"  he 
cried,  extending  his  arms  toward  them,  "I 
too  want  you  to  be  lifted  up  out  of  your 
misery!  I  have  come  dov/n  here  to  give  you 
what  help  lies  in  my  power,  not  to  rail  at  you. 
God  forbid  that  I  should  be  puffed  up  with 
vanity  and  think  myself  better  than  you,  but  I 
have  been  blessed  with  some  education  and 
other  golden  opportunities,  and  I  am  here  to 
use  them  for  your  benefit.  It  cuts  me  to  the 
heart  to  see  how  you  live;  nay,  it  fills  me  with 
shame,  with  shame!  You  for  whom  so  much 
has  been  done,  so  much  endured!  Do  you 
mind  the  time  when  the  heavens  were  rolled 


Stephen  the  Black  71 

back  like  a  scroll,  and  God's  lightning  flashed, 
and  His  thunderbolts  fell  to  save  you?  Have 
you  forgotten  the  days  when  the  sun  stood 
still  and  the  earth  was  darkened  and  a  mighty 
nation  tore  its  heart  out  and  writhed  in  agony, 
that  you — that  you  might  live  and  walk  about 
in  God's  sunlight  like  men  ?  Oh,  my  people, 
I  call  upon  you  to  rise  up  out  of  your  degrada 
tion!  Your  prayers  and  your  prophecies  are 
a  mockery  while  your  lives  are  full  of  sin. 
Lift  yourselves  up  and  seek  God  in  righteous 
living.  No,  do  not  heed  my  words  if  they 
sound  harsh ;  lay  it  to  my  crude  utterance  if  I 
have  said  aught  to  give  offence — my  heart  is 
full  of  love  and  sympathy — I  want  only  to 
work  with  you,  to  be  one  of  you." 

The  meeting  broke  up  suddenly.  The  con 
gregation  gathered  around  the  young  teacher 
to  examine  him  curiously.  Wesley  Anderson, 
though  much  discomforted  by  the  slight  laid 
upon  his  prophetic  utterance,  hastened  to 
clasp  the  stranger's  hand  and  welcome  him  to 
the  neighborhood.  He  was  a  slender  young 
fellow,  with  eyes  that  turned  from  grey  to 


72  Stephen  the  Black 

black.  There  was  white  blood  evidently  in 
his  ancestry,  but  heavily  obscured,  for  his 
skin  and  hair  were  those  of  a  typical  black, 
the  former  being  dark  brown,  and  the  latter 
close  and  woolly. 

His  hearers  had  no  thought  of  accepting  him 
as  a  leader.  They  eyed  him  good-naturedly, 
but  critically,  and  commented  on  his  speech 
among  themselves,  some  expressing  approval 
and  others  shaking  their  heads  dubiously,  but 
their  chief  concern  was  the  possibility  of  hav 
ing  real  glass  windows  in  their  church  build 
ing.  They  agreed  to  bear  the  expense  of  the 
materials,  and  the  newcomer  promised  that 
the  windows  should  be  there  within  a  month. 

They  sat  around  and  talked  the  matter  over 
in  all  its  bearings.  The  teacher's  name  was 
Stephen  Wells, — from  Virginia,  he  said, — and 
as  he  gave  it,  he  wrote  down  in  a  little  book 
the  name  of  his  questioner  and  the  plantation 
on  which  he  lived. 

They  felt  somewhat  drawn  toward  the 
young  man,  but  mystified  by  his  attitude, 
which  was  more  paternal  than  the  occasion 


Stephen  the  Black  73 

seemed  to  warrant.  They  decided  to  watch 
him  closely  in  the  future. 

Wesley  turned  homeward  with  his  head 
bent,  absorbed  in  a  study  of  the  new  teacher's 
discourse,  which  he  compared  restlessly  with 
his  own  prophecy.  Lemuel  walked  beside 
him,  also  lost  in  a  study  of  the  new  teacher's 
words.  His  grandfather  promised  that  he 
should  begin  school  again  and  that  Theresa 
should  accompany  him. 

They  found  her  waiting  at  the  cabin  door. 
She  was  sitting  on  the  upper  step,  and  she 
told  them  that  supper  was  on  the  table. 

"  Mis'  Aiken  didn't  want  me  to  wait  on  her 
company,  so  I  come  home,"  she  explained 
quietly. 


CHAPTER  VI 

WHEN  Stephen  Wells  opened  his  school  the 
next  morning  he  found  the  Anderson  boy  and 
girl  among  his  first  pupils.  Lemuel's  bright 
eyes  were  fixed  sharply  on  the  new  instructor, 
his  eager  black  face  was  full  of  expecta 
tion  and  watchfulness.  But  Theresa,  toward 
whom  the  teacher's  eyes  were  directed  several 
times,  with  a  look  of  surprised  inquiry,  sat 
with  her  chin  resting  on  a  slight  little  hand. 
Her  eyes  obediently  followed  the  ferule  to  the 
blackboard  when  directed,  but  her  gaze  was 
pensive  and  her  expression  dreamy. 

Stephen  examined  every  pupil  in  the  rudi 
ments,  and  dismissed  the  school  early,  so  that 
he  could  arrange  his  classes  for  the  following 
day. 

He  began  wprk  soon  afterward  on  the  win 
dows  of  the  building,  for  the  glass  arrived  the 
same  week.  Lemuel  sometimes  stayed  after 
school  hours  to  help  him,  and  on  one  occa- 
74 


Stephen  the  Black  75 

sion  Theresa  remained  to  assist  in  dabbing 
putty  on  the  edge  of  the  glass.  The  fame  of 
his  performances  spread  over  many  planta 
tions,  and  his  circle  of  gaping  observers  in 
creased  daily. 

Meanwhile  on  the  appointed  Saturday  after 
noon,  Wesley  Anderson  made  his  way  to  the 
home  of  his  landlord,  arriving  at  the  back 
door  shortly  after  the  midday  meal.  It  was 
a  wide,  low,  rambling  building  of  one  story, 
surrounded  by  a  luxuriant  but  neglected 
garden,  overgrown  with  high  grasses,  weeds, 
rosebushes,  and  vines.  The  colonel  and  his 
family  occupied  the  old  homestead  only  a  few 
months  every  spring,  so  it  was  not  thought 
worth  while  to  keep  the  place  in  repair.  In 
the  background  a  few  tumble-down  log  cabins 
nestled,  some  intended  to  serve  as  outside 
kitchen,  tool-house,  and  wash-house,  while 
others  gave  shelter  to  half  a  dozen  servants. 

Wesley  was  admitted  to  the  hall  by  a  side 
door,  and  found  his  landlord  in  a  back  room 
adjoining  the  dining-room.  This  room  was 
furnished  with  a  desk,  a  couple  of  tables,  and 


76  Stephen  the  Black 

one  chair,  on  which  the  proprietor  sat,  facing 
a  number  of  field-hands  who  had  come  to  ob 
tain  their  supplies  for  the  month.  These 
black  fellows  were  in  their  working  clothes  ; 
some  stood  straight  against  the  wall,  others 
lounged  against  each  other,  while  a  few,  who 
had  brought  their  wives,  placed  them  beside 
a  pile  of  barrels  and  boxes  on  one  side  of  the 
room.  It  resembled,  in  fact,  the  storeroom 
of  a  retail  grocery  establishment,  but  there 
were  dry  goods  in  stock  as  well  as  groceries, 
and  the  women  were  examining  with  envious 
eyes  the  rolls  of  gaudy  cheap  calico  which 
lay  on  the  shelf  in  wrappings  of  brown  paper. 
Odors  of  sugar,  ham,  rum,  and  tobacco 
weighted  the  atmosphere  heavily  with  sug 
gestions  of  past  commercial  transactions,  as 
well  as  good  times  to  come,  for  never  was 
such  an  assortment  of  articles  and  odors 
brought  together  except  for  purposes  of  bar 
ter. 

Colonel  Aikens,  stout,  florid  and  benevolent- 
looking,  with  slightly  curling  grey  locks  and 
a  long  grey  beard,  called  off  in  a  business- 


Stephen  the  Black  77 

like  way  the  names  of  his  tenants  and  the 
amount  of  groceries  and  dry  goods  desired  by 
each.  Every  now  and  then  he  aided  their 
choice  by  pointing  out  the  superior  virtues  of 
a  certain  ham,  or  the  extraordinary  cheapness 
of  his  sugar,  cornmeal,  or  coffee.  He  was 
solicitous  that  the  women  should  make  their 
selections  from  the  calico  and  muslin  on  the 
shelf,  and  joked  slyly  with  their  husbands 
over  the  extravagance  of  their  fashionable  at 
tire,  and  the  becomingness  of  the  gaudy  colors 
they  selected. 

In  response  to  his  jokes,  the  men  showed 
rows  of  even  white  teeth,  and  sometimes  re 
plied  in  half  whispers  with  little  jokes  of  their 
own,  or  shook  their  heads  deprecatingly  and 
often  sadly  over  their  increasing  expenses,  and 
the  weakness  of  spouses  whose  hearts  were 
so  easily  won  by  purple  chintz  and  wholesale 
flattery. 

Wesley  ordered  a  smaller  supply  than  any 
of  the  others,  and  declined  all  bargains  in 
dress  goods.  His  girl,  he  explained,  had  a 
taste  of  her  own,  and  he  wouldn't  undertake 


78  Stephen  the  Black 

to  suit  her.  She  could  come  herself  some 
day  if  she  wanted  to,  and  the  colonel  agreed 
that  this  was  the  best  plan  and  offered  to 
order  an  extra  dress  pattern  of  whatever  ma 
terial  she  might  desire — "because,"  he  said, 
"  she's  the  prettiest  girl  on  the  plantation,  and 
you  ought  to  dress  her  so's  to  let  people  know 
it." 

"I  ain't  hankerin'  to  have  'em  know  it, 
sah,"  Wesley  replied,  looking  down  uneasily 
at  the  floor.  "I  don't  want  to  lose  my  gurl. 
She's  all  I  got, — her  an'  her  brudder." 

"Boys,  ain't  any  of  you  got  sperrit  enough 
to  take  that  pretty  girl  'long  with  you  to 
church  and  buy  ribbons  for  her  ?  You're  a 
fine  set  o'  fellows,  you  are,"  the  colonel 
called  out  waggishly. 

One  of  the  unmarried  men,  laughing  bash 
fully,  responded  that  the  fault  was  not  his. 

"I  been  invitin' Miss  Tressy  time  an' time 
again  to  go  to  church  wid  me,  but  she  'cline 
de  invitation  ever'  time,"  he  observed  with 
plaintive  candor.  They  all  laughed  in  the 
same  gentle  fashion,  turning  the  whites  of 


Stephen  the  Black  79 

their  large  ox-like  eyes  upon  Wesley,  who 
laughed  also  and  looked  relieved. 

Wesley  assisted  the  colonel  to  weigh  the 
groceries  and  other  articles  on  a  pair  of  large 
scales  which  stood  on  the  table,  and  to  cut  off 
the  dress  lengths  to  suit  the  women.  Every 
purchase  was  deposited  in  a  large  paper  bag, 
which  the  tenant  swung  over  his  shoulder  or 
hugged  under  his  arm  as  he  departed.  Some 
had  brought  flasks  which  they  had  filled  with 
poor  whiskey  or  rum,  and  nearly  all  received 
molasses  in  stone  jugs,  which  they  had  also 
brought  for  refilling. 

"Now,  Wesley,"  whispered  the  colonel, 
affably,  when  all  the  others  had  withdrawn, 
"  I've  got  something  I've  been  saving  for  you. 
I'm  goin'  to  let  you  have  it  at  a  sacrifice." 

He  led  the  way  to  a  rickety  stable,  the  door 
of  which  he  flung  open  wide. 

"Just  take  a  look  at  him."  Wesley  entered 
and  saw  a  young  ox  standing  in  the  nearest 
stall.  He  was  meek-eyed  and  sound  of  limb, 
and  the  colonel  explained  that  he  had  already 
been  broken  to  the  plough. 


8o  Stephen  the  Black 

"I'll  let  you  have  that  animal  cheaper  than 
you  could  buy  one  yourself  if  you  went  to 
every  sale  in  the  state.  I  picked  him  up  at 
auction,  and  got  him  thrown  in  with  a  car 
riage  I  bought  for  myself.  You  can  have  him 
for  seventy-five  dollars." 

"What  interest?"  asked  Wesley,  soberly. 

"Same  as  you  pay  for  the  rest — twenty-five 
per  cent." 

"I  been  lookin'  fo'ward  to  buyin'  a  ox  this 
thirty  year  an'  mo',"  remarked  the  negro, 
sadly.  "Tears  like  I  couldn't  never 'ford  to 
buy  him,  nohow." 

"You'll  save  money  on  that  ox,  hirin'  him 
out  when  you  ain't  usin'  him  yourself.  He'll 
thrive  on  what  you  throw  away.  Feed  him 
on  cotton  stalks  and  it  won't  cost  you  a  cent 
to  keep  him,  I  bet." 

The  result  of  the  interview  was  that  Wesley 
led  off  the  young  ox  and  chained  him  within 
an  unused  cabin  near  by.  He  rejoiced  over 
his  acquisition  from  sheer  love  of  ownership. 
His  farmer's  heart  had  never  yet  been  grati 
fied;  but  when  he  remembered  how  little 


Stephen  the  Black  81 

there  was  left  after  the  sale  of  the  last  season's 
crop,  he  almost  regretted  that  the  wonderful 
bargain  had  been  offered  to  him.  The  colonel 
assured  him,  however,  that  the  coming  crop 
was  likely  to  be  unprecedented  in  size  and 
value,  and  that  cotton  was  going  to  reach  a 
higher  price  in  the  fall  than  it  had  touched 
since  the  war.  So  Wesley  braced  himself  up 
with  the  colonel's  happy  optimism ;  he  fed  the 
ox  lovingly  and  bountifully  and  extended  his 
mortgage  a  little  further  into  the  coming  crop. 
He  called  the  animal,  "  Abraham." 


CHAPTER  VII 

THERESA  attended  school  regularly  for  some 
weeks  and  devoted  herself  with  more  ambi 
tion  than  she  usually  possessed  to  her  books. 
As  her  teacher  bent  over  her  one  day  to  point 
out  an  error  in  an  example  she  had  attempted 
on  her  slate,  the  girl  noticed  with  surprise  the 
unusual  color  of  his  eyes,  and  she  reflected 
with  satisfaction  on  this  evidence  of  his  mixed 
blood.  Stephen  was  secretly  pleased  at  the 
many  proofs  Theresa  gave  him  of  her  confi 
dence,  and  in  no  wise  conjectured  that  his 
grey  eyes  were  at  the  bottom  of  the  shy, 
deferential  glances  which  she  bestowed  upon 
him. 

He  noticed  also  that  while  she  held  herself 
aloof  from  the  other  pupils,  there  was  noth 
ing  disdainful  in  her  attitude.  She  moved  in 
and  out  of  their  presence  without  exciting 
envy  or  ill-feeling,  and  when  she  sat  alone  at 
recess,  her  absence  from  their  sports  passed 
82 


Stephen  the  Black  83 

without  reproach.  It  seemed  to  be  an  ac 
cepted  fact  that  Theresa  did  not  care  for  their 
pastimes,  and  probably  they  vaguely  recog 
nized  that  the  chords  of  her  young  life  were 
in  tune  for  higher  melodies  than  might  be 
played  upon  their  own. 

Two  weeks  passed  by.  Theresa  had  not 
seen  the  colonel's  son  since  that  Sunday  in 
the  woods,  but  she  had  heard  of  his  return  to 
the  city,  and  her  thoughts  centred  on  the 
possibilities  of  his  reappearance  and  on  that 
mysterious  union  which  she  longed  for  with 
out  comprehending  the  degradation  it  im 
plied.  The  girl's  version  of  his  interest  in  her 
was  based  on  the  consciousness  of  her  white 
blood.  Her  quick  imagination  encouraged  the 
fancy  that  there  was  something  incongruous 
in  her  secluded  life  among  the  blacks,  and  the 
unqualified  admiration  which  the  white  man 
had  deigned  to  bestow  upon  her  seemed  to 
prove  that  he  too  felt  the  incongruity,  and 
was  determined  to  rescue  her  from  such  un 
worthy  surroundings. 

Theresa  knew  little  of  her  mother's  history. 


84  Stephen  the  Black 

The  real  tragedy  of  that  life  had  been  care 
fully  kept  from  her  knowledge  by  her  grand 
father.  She  knew  that  her  father  had  been 
a  white  man.  In  her  ignorant  young  mind 
this  bald  fact  stood  forth  in  brilliant  isolation. 
Of  social  customs  she  knew  nothing,  and  of 
race  prejudice  she  understood  enough  to  ap 
preciate  the  existence  of  a  color  line  that  was 
outwardly  visible.  But  the  Lord  had  made 
her  skin,  hair  and  eyes  like  those  of  a  more 
favored  race,  and  she  thankfully  accepted 
these  proofs  of  her  kinship  with  superior  be 
ings,  without  loss  of  self-esteem  because  the 
rest  of  her  household  represented  an  inferior 
race. 

She  was  not  distressed  because  her  grand 
father  and  brothers  were  black,  nor  did  she 
conceive  it  to  be  any  reason  why  she  should 
love  them  less.  In  her  dream  of  a  future  union 
with  Ralph  Aikens,  she  had  not  contemplated 
with  any  distinctness  a  separation  from  the 
two  black  comrades  of  her  home  and  child 
hood.  Bound  to  them  by  the  closest  of  hu 
man  ties,  yet  believing  herself  to  be  of  differ- 


Stephen  the  Black  85 

ent  blood  and  intended  for  a  higher  destiny, 
herein  no  discrepancy  had  as  yet  presented 
itself  to  the  understanding  of  this  simple  child. 

Her  approval  of  the  new  teacher  deepened 
when  she  learned  that  he  was  a  graduate  of 
a  northern  college.  The  young  man  had  re 
ceived  a  fairly  good  education  in  a  sectarian 
school  which  had  been  founded  by  the  phil 
anthropic  energy  of  the  North,  immediately 
after  the  war.  From  this  obscure,  struggling 
institution  he  had  obtained  a  teacher's  diploma 
some  three  years  before,  and  had  subsequently 
worked  his  way  through  the  large  industrial 
Normal  Institute  established  by  the  great 
leader  of  the  negro  race  in  Alabama.  Here 
he  learned  a  trade  and  some  practical  knowl 
edge  of  farming. 

In  regard  to  the  ancestry  of  Stephen  Wells, 
I  am  compelled  to  make  a  somewhat  elaborate 
explanation.  Both  of  his  parents  were  of 
mixed  blood,  and  both  could  rightfully  claim 
to  be  the  descendants  of  white  men.  In  the 
generation  previous  there  was  also  mixed  blood 
on  the  maternal  side  of  either  parent;  in  the 


86  Stephen  the  Black 

generation  back  of  that  there  was  again  a 
heavy  mixture;  while  still  further  back,  the 
dark  blood  was  pure  on  one  side  and  only 
slightly  adulterated  on  the  other, — until  we 
reach  finally  the  full  blooded  African  type 
from  which  all  these  variations  had  developed. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  white  blood  was  a 
pure,  clear  Anglo-Saxon  current  bearing  the 
virtues  and  vices  of  a  Revolutionary  hero,  a 
Maryland  judge  and  a  North  Carolina  planter, 
besides  those  of  innumerable  lesser  lights  of 
unquestioned  worth  and  respectability.  One 
can  see  at  a  glance  that  it  would  be  exceed 
ingly  difficult  to  measure  the  exact  proportion 
of  white  and  black  blood  which  the  descend 
ants  of  so  many  points  of  contact  represented. 
One  can  also  see  that  the  transmission  of 
mental,  moral  and  physical  qualities  is  a  proc 
ess  capable  of  an  infinite  number  of  combi 
nations;  it  proceeds  along  the  line  of  arith- 
metrical  progression  into  everlasting  differen 
tiations. 

From   this  ocean  of  all  possible  combina 
tions,  an  inscrutable  Providence  had  arranged 


Stephen  the  Black        .      87 

an  exceedingly  simple  variety  for  my  hero. 
The  conditions  of  Stephen's  existence  were 
simply  these: — In  the  transmission  of  charac 
teristics  belonging  to  two  separate  and  dis 
tinct  races,  which  had  intermingled  several 
times  in  the  course  of  four  generations,  it  hap 
pened  that  the  Anglo-Saxon  inheritance  con 
tributed  all  the  mental  and  moral  attributes 
that  constitute  the  personality  of  a  human 
being.  The  elements  of  African  inheritance 
which  were  fewer  in  number,  had  on  the 
other  hand  so  arranged  themselves  as  to  form 
a  physical  exterior  to  this  personality.  In 
other  words,  Stephen,  in  mind,  temperament 
and  sensibility  was  the  sum  total  of  his  white 
ancestors;  they  had  also  left  their  mark  to  a 
certain  degree  on  his  features,  but  the  outside 
covering  to  all  these  Anglo-Saxon  elements 
was  the  cuticle  of  the  black.  He  was  a  white 
man  shut  up  in  a  black  skin,  though  believing 
himself  to  possess  only  a  small  trace  of  white 
blood  in  his  veins. 

Desiring  to  be  perfectly  frank  with  my  reader, 
I  hasten  to  explain  that  in  the  case  of  Theresa 


88  Stephen  the  Black 

these  conditions  were  reversed.  Outwardly, 
she  was  a  white  woman,  but  inwardly  the 
fabric  of  her  nature  was  woven  of  African 
characteristics;  her  clinging  tenderness,  her 
devoted  faith,  her  poetic  dreaminess,  were 
qualities  bequeathed  by  her  black  ancestors. 

When  these  strange  psychological  facts  are 
understood,  may  I  not  hope  that  Stephen's 
claim  to  the  sympathetic  interest  of  the  great 
white  American  public  will  be  firmly  estab 
lished  ?  Need  I  hesitate  to  present  him  to  my 
readers  as  the  hero  of  this  humble  romance  ? 
Those  who  have  been  moved  to  tears  by  the 
dark  mystery  of  the  Man  with  the  Iron  Mask 
will  surely  comprehend  the  tragedy  involved 
in  wearing  an  iron  mask  not  only  over  one's 
features,  but  over  every  circumstance  and  con 
dition  of  one's  life. 

But  in  the  case  of  my  heroine,  have  I  been, 
alas  !  too  frank  ?  Have  I  indeed  chilled  the 
reader's  interest  by  this  witless  revelation  of  her 
dark  personality  ?  If  so,  I  can  only  hope  that 
her  fair  exterior  may  cause  my  explanation  to 
be  forgotten,  or  at  least  ignored.  To  be  beau- 


Stephen  the  Black  89 

tiful  is  all  that  is  demanded  of  a  heroine;  let 
all  else  be  forgotten  concerning  her!  Nothing 
but  death  shall  dim  the  lustre  of  her  eyes  and 
the  enchanting  fairness  of  her  skin.  I  have 
blundered,  but  I  assure  the  indulgent  reader 
that  I  shall  not  allude  to  my  blunder  again. 

Stephen  was  surprised  one  day,  when  three 
negroes,  austerely  clad  in  their  shabby  black  Sun 
day  suits,  knocked  for  admission  at  the  school- 
house  door,  and  seated  themselves  on  the  front 
bench  facing  the  teacher's  desk,  which  was 
the  only  desk  of  which  the  school  could  boast. 
From  their  air  of  grave  deliberation  it  was  ap 
parent  that  they  had  come  with  a  set  purpose. 
Stephen  recognized  Wesley  Anderson  as  one 
of  them ;  another  was  the  old  minister,  whose 
husky  voice  had  recovered  its  usual  tones;  the 
third  was  a  stranger.  Mr.  Simpson,  the 
preacher,  was  the  only  one  of  the  three  who 
knew  how  to  read.  They  listened  solemnly 
to  every  word  that  Stephen  addressed  to  his 
pupils,  and  to  every  recitation.  Occasionally 
they  glanced  shyly  at  each  other  with  a 


go  Stephen  the  Black 

thoughtful  nod  indicative  of  qualified  ap 
proval,  but  their  prevailing  expression  was  one 
of  deep  anxiety.  They  seemed  to  be  weighed 
down  with  a  sense  of  crushing  responsibility, 
and  a  depressing  realization  of  the  awful  pro 
portions  of  their  self-imposed  task. 

When  recess  came,  the  three  old  darkies 
sighed  and  looked  at  each  other  questioningly, 
still  unrelieved  of  their  harassing  doubts. 
Stephen  approached  them  with  cordiality,  but 
it  was  plain  that  they  considered  their  unful 
filled  mission  to  be  an  obstacle  to  the  estab 
lishment  of  more  cordial  relations.  They  shook 
hands  with  coy  dignity,  and  the  minister  asked 
for  a  book  on  arithmetic.  Stephen  handed 
him  the  one  in  use  by  the  school.  Brother 
Simpson  turned  over  the  pages  with  gravity, 
and  read  aloud  softly  to  his  comrades  the 
words,  "Long  Division."  Adjusting  their 
steel  spectacles,  the  three  fumbled  over  the 
page  together,  and  shamefacedly  the  preacher 
read  off  the  terms  of  an  example  given  as 
an  illustration  of  long  division.  Somehow 
Stephen  was  made  aware  that  his  visitors 


Stephen  the  Black  91 

wanted  him  to  work  out  that  particular  sum 
on  the  blackboard;  mechanically  he  wrote 
down  the  figures  and  explained  every  step  in 
the  process.  As  he  named  the  result,  which 
proved  to  be  twenty-five  dollars,  the  three 
heads  bent  simultaneously  over  the  book,  the 
three  black  wrinkled  faces  wearing  an  expres 
sion  of  painful  embarrassment  and  suppressed 
excitement.  The  reverend  Mr.  Simpson  raised 
the  book  to  the  light  and  read  off  in  a  whisper 
the  result  of  the  illustrating  problem.  Then 
all  three  stared  long  and  earnestly  at  the  black 
board,  and  again  at  the  book.  Intense  satis 
faction  became  immediately  visible  on  their 
faces  as  Mr.  Simpson  explained  again  in  a 
whisper  that  the  answer  on  the  blackboard 
corresponded  to  the  one  given  in  the  book. 

Stephen  concluded  that  these  old  men  had 
come  to  test  his  fitness  for  the  position  of 
school-teacher,  and  he  could  not  but  smile  at 
the  comical  long-headedness  which  had  enabled 
the  poor  old  field-hands  to  perform  their  well- 
nigh  impossible  task.  He  could  not  fail  either,  y  + 
to  appreciate  fcs^  conscientious  zeal  which  had  /  /#&• 


92  Stephen  the  Black 

caused  them  to  disguise  the  nature  of  their  er 
rand  in  a  well-meant  effort  to  spare  him  a 
wound  that  might  prove  to  be  unnecessary. 

Stephen  had  always  looked  with  the  con 
tempt  of  a  northern  born  and  college-bred  man 
(for  such  he  considered  himself)  upon  the 
millions  of  his  race  occupying  so  large  a  por 
tion  of  the  Southland.  He  shuddered  over 
their  illiteracy,  the  statistics  of  which  were  ap 
palling;  he  was  still  groaning  in  spirit  over 
their  barbarous  and  degraded  modes  of  living. 
This  naive  investigation  into  his  merits,  there 
fore,  brought  quite  as  much  relief  to  him  as  it 
did  to  his  anxious  visitors,  who  were  now  lit 
erally  hugging  each  other  with  joy  over  the 
discovery  that  their  "  Perfessor"  could  do  long 
division.  These  illiterate  sons  of  toil  had 
made  a  desperate  effort  to  test  the  claims  of 
him  who  was  sent  to  be  to  them  as  a  fountain- 
head  of  learning.  It  was  the  first  proof  he 
had  received  that  their  blind  groping  for  bet 
ter  things  had  any  practical  purpose  back 
of  it.  It  was  pathetic;  but  it  was  also  hope 
ful. 


Stephen  the  Black  93 

In  their  enthusiasm  they  shook  his  hand  again 
and  again  as  they  bade  him  farewell. 

"We's  got  a  perfessor  now  who's  gwine 
to  eddicate  our  chillen  like  de  white  man's 
chillen ;  we'se  gwine  to  be  lift'  up  out  o'  our 
ig'rance;  yes,  sah,  we  is!"  was  the  tenor  of 
their  congratulations  as  they  left  the  school- 
house  door. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  next  morning  Stephen  found  that  both 
the  Anderson  children  were  absent  from  his 
school.  He  looked  again  for  them  at  the 
afternoon  session,  but  neither  the  dark,  keen 
visage  of  Lemuel  nor  the  fair,  delicate  face  of 
his  sister  was  visible  in  the  crowded  interior 
of  the  schoolroom. 

Every  week  was  bringing  fresh  recruits  to 
the  school,  until  Stephen  reluctantly  decided 
that  he  could  receive  no  more, — certainly  not 
until  he  was  prepared  to  engage  an  assistant 
teacher  and  build  an  extra  wing  to  the  little 
frame  building.  As  yet  it  was  impossible  to 
make  any  such  additions,  for  his  salary  of 
twelve  dollars  a  month  was  barely  sufficient 
to  pay  a  minimum  of  board  and  leave  a  much 
needed  margin  for  other  expenses. 

He  found  himself  obliged  in  many  cases  to 
advance  money  for  the  purchase  of  slates, 
copybooks,  blackboards,  pencils,  and  text- 

94 


Stephen  the  Black  95 

books,  on  a  promise  of  the  field-hands  to  re 
pay  him  in  the  fall.  The  text-books  naturally 
dwindled  to  the  few  used  by  himself,  and 
from  them  he  copied  on  the  blackboard  the 
lessons  of  the  day.  He  invested  eight  dollars 
of  his  savings  in  what  seemed  to  him  a  very 
complete  set  of  reading  and  writing  charts 
which  he  hung  on  the  wall.  They  were  the 
admiration  of  the  neighborhood,  and  he  was 
continually  explaining  their  merits  to  his 
numerous  callers  until  he  became  weary  of 
the  task,  especially  as  he  found  himself  com 
pelled  to  depend  more  and  more  on  highly 
original  methods  of  his  own  in  handling 
classes  of  boys  and  girls  whose  ages  varied 
from  six  to  twenty-five  years,  and  whose 
only  common  characteristic  was  a  dense 
ignorance. 

Many  of  his  pupils  traveled  miles  across  the 
country  to  attend  the  school,  yet  this  much- 
needed  and  highly  appreciated  institution  had 
hitherto  been  open  only  three  months  of  the 
year — one  month  in  summer,  and  two  in 
winter.  It  was  now  completing  the  second 


96         .    Stephen  the  Black 

month  of  its  much  belated  winter  term,  and 
its  days  were  numbered  to  an  exceeding  few. 
After  six  weeks'  intermission  it  would  reopen 
in  July  for  four  weeks  more,  and  then  another 
long  gap  would  occur,  during  which  the  chil 
dren  would  fall  back  into  the  common  pit 
of  knownothingness,  from  which  they  were 
dragged  during  the  brief  interval  when  learn 
ing  was  supposed  to  be  flourishing  among 
them. 

Stephen  had  now  succeeded  in  getting  them 
into  a  habit  of  attention,  and  it  might  soon 
be  possible  to  teach  them  things  they  would 
remember.  So  far,  the  administration  of 
knowledge  had  seemed  a  slippery  something 
that  rolled  over  their  woolly  heads  and  down 
their  crouching  backs  and  away  out  the  door. 
It  would  lodge  nowhere  at  first,  detained  not 
even  by  their  bright  magnetic  eyes,  which 
seemed  to  absorb  so  much  and  to  plead  so 
wistfully  all  the  while  for  more— more— more 
knowledge.  Alas!  The  next  day's  review 
had  too  often  proved  that  they  remembered 
nothing. 


Stephen  the  Black  97 

But  why  should  these  dusky  little  people 
have  burdened  themselves  with  the  white 
man's  painful  feats  of  memory,  when  the 
fresh  springs  of  their  glowing  imaginations 
supplied  them  every  day  with  new  wonder- 
tales  of  Bre'r  Rabbit,  Bre'r  Fox  and  other 
celebrities  of  the  forest — the  delicious  satire 
and  fun  of  which  only  the  truly  simple  folk 
who  live  close  to  God's  earth  can  either  in 
vent  or  appreciate? 

Stephen  believed  that  he  could  learn  much 
from  this  philosophy  of  the  illiterate  which 
these  wee  philosophers  expounded  to  each 
other  so  gleefully  during  recess.  But  in  his 
over-conscientiousness,  he  often  stopped  the 
narrative  to  rebuke  the  excess  of  worldly 
cunning  which  the  fabled  four-footed  heroes 
so  unblushingly  displayed.  Then,  the  ab 
sorbed  narrator,  looking  up  with  eyes  of  in 
nocent  surprise,  would  gravely  carry  the  tale 
to  an  astonishing  climax,  in  which  it  would 
appear  that  worldly  cunning  served  only  to 
overreach  itself,  and  the  wicked  were  never 
permitted  to  flourish  like  a  green  bay-tree. 


98  Stephen  the  Black 

Miss  Edgeworth's  Moral  Tales  could  not  have 
done  better, — but  were  these  little  people 
laughing  at  him  when  they  hugged  their 
knees  and  threw  back  their  woolly  heads  to 
reveal  eyes  bubbling  over  with  mirth  and 
mischief, — and  did  they  really  know  far  back 
in  their  complex  little  brains,  that  out  in  the 
great  wide  world  of  the  white  man's  civiliza 
tion,  worldly  cunning  generally  does  bag  its 
game,  and  the  wicked  one  generally  is  per 
mitted  to  flourish  like  a  green  bay-tree  ?  He 
could  not  tell.  There  are  none  so  wise  as  the 
truly  simple,  and  Stephen  feared  that  he  was 
neither  wise  nor  simple  enough  to  read  these 
children  aright.  There  was  indeed  no  affinity 
between  his  white  mentality  and  their  mys 
terious  processes  of  thought. 

He  spoke  to  them  in  an  unknown  tongue  of 
fairly  good  colloquial  English,  but  it  was  not 
their  English.  With  dogged  patience,  he  ad 
justed  his  quaint  system  of  instruction  to  suit 
their  needs,  and  adopted  as  much  of  their 
dialect  as  he  could  remember  in  his  explana 
tions.  I  cannot  say  that  he  was  one  of  those 


Stephen  the  Black  99 

teachers  who  are  born,  not  made.  He  was 
held  to  his  vocation  by  what  I  must  describe 
as  a  sort  of  aggressive  determination  to  push 
his  race  forward  into  a  hand-to-hand  struggle 
with  existing  conditions.  The  Anglo-Saxon 
instinct  of  resistance  to  circumstance  was 
strong  within  him — a  direct  inheritance  from 
the  masterful  force  which  had  founded  colo 
nies,  developed  continents  and  overthrown 
tyrants  from  one  generation  to  another.  He 
was  gloomily  conscious  at  times  that  his  mood 
was  not  that  of  the  gentle  missionary  whose 
efforts  to  uplift  are  based  on  a  complete  sur 
render  of  all  personal  ambition  to  the  will  of 
God.  His  hatred  of  injustice  was  far  greater 
than  his  desire  to  bless,  and  his  choice  of  the 
vocation  of  missionary  teacher  was  in  obe 
dience  to  a  passionate  impulse  to  overcome 
whatever  barriers  shut  out  his  people  from 
material  and  moral  progress. 

Probably  he  would  not  have  made  such  a 
choice  if  his  instructors  at  the  sectarian  college 
had  not  labored  assiduously  to  set  his  feet  in 
this  direction.  The  woes  of  his  race  had  been 


ioo  Stephen  the  Black 

held  before  his  eyes  from  the  moment  he  en 
tered  the  college  until  he  departed  from  its 
doors;  it  was  persistently  pointed  out  to  him 
that  improvement  must  come  from  within; 
his  people  must  depend  on  themselves  and 
work  out  their  own  salvation. 

Accordingly,  Stephen  gave  himself  up 
wholly  to  his  herculean  task.  For  patience, 
he  substituted  perseverance,  and  an  invincible 
resolution  took  the  place  of  the  happy  opti 
mism  of  the  philanthropist.  The  children  were 
to  be  made  to  learn.  His  people  were  to  be 
forced  into  self-improvement,  whether  they 
would  or  not.  When  failure  threatened,  he 
took  refuge  in  a  despairing  stubbornness,  and 
plodded  on. 

Such  an  iron  will  soon  majce  itself  felt  in 
the  neighborhood.  A  power  greater  than 
themselves  was  exactly  what  the  blacks 
needed,  and  they  hailed  it  with  delight. 
Without  special  gifts  as  a  teacher,  Stephen 
stood  forth  nevertheless  as  a  leader  of  men. 
This  fact,  however,  was  more  clearly  felt  than 
expressed,  for  in  every  cabin  he  was  described 


Stephen  the  Black  101 

with  enthusiasm  as  the  ''gran'  perfessor";  the 
faith  of  the  ignorant  in  his  learning  was  un 
bounded  and  brought  sweet  comfort  to  many 
faint  and  weary  hearts. 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  Stephen  started  to 
visit  the  Anderson  cabin,  to  see  what  had  be 
come  of  his  two  pupils.  He  feared  that  ill 
ness  might  have  befallen  the  old  negro,  whom 
he  sincerely  esteemed.  It  was  nearly  dark  and 
he  expected  to  find  the  little  family  at  their 
evening  meal. 

Lemuel  was  sitting  on  the  cabin  steps  whit 
tling  a  stick  as  Stephen  approached.  His 
head  was  bent,  and  he  refused  to  look  up  as 
Stephen  addressed  him  and  inquired  why  he 
and  his  sister  had  both  been  absent  from 
school  that  day. 

"Tressy's  gone,"  was  the  reply,  as  he  whit 
tled  on:  "she  gone 'way." 

"Gone  where?" 

"Gone  to  keep  house  fo'  white  man." 
Lemuel  pulled  out  a  much  soiled  and  once 
highly  colored  bandanna  handkerchief,  which 
he  applied  to  his  eyes.  "Gran'pap  gwine  to 


102  Stephen  the  Black 

die  soon,  I  'spec'.  Tressy  broke  his  heart  dis 
time — she  bad,  heartless  gurl." 

With  a  cold  numbness  in  his  heart,  Stephen 
pushed  open  the  door,  and  entered. 

It  was  a  small,  poorly-lighted  room ;  one  of 
the  inevitable  square  holes  which  served  as 
windows  being  closed  and  the  other  letting  in 
enough  light  to  show  that  the  bare,  carpetless 
floor  was  scrupulously  clean,  and  the  two 
beds,  which  stood  at  different  angles,  were 
spotlessly  white,  the  pillows  being  decorated 
with  starched  and  frilled  pillow-shams,  and 
the  beds  partly  covered  with  folded  patch 
work  quilts.  A  chest  of  drawers,  two  old 
tables,  and  a  few  decrepit  chairs  completed 
the  furniture  of  this  humble  home,  which 
Stephen  recognized  as  about  the  average  in 
comfort  and  cleanliness.  The  striking  fea 
ture  in  this,  as  in  all  negro  cabins  of  the 
South,  was  the  rude,  yawning  fireplace. 
Down  its  vast  slanting  chimney  the  daylight 
fell  on  a  heap  of  cold  ashes  on  the  hearth  be 
low;  above  there  was  a  wide  ledge  of  plas 
ter  which  served  as  a  kind  of  shelf,  and  on  it 


Stephen  the  Black  103 

there  were  various  little  objects  arranged  with 
a  view  to  adornment.  Poor  little  ornaments 
enough  they  were:  a  broken  remnant  of  a 
cheap  vase,  a  painted  cup  without  a  saucer,  a 
little  square  of  dingy  mirror,  a  bird's  nest,  a 
curiously  shaped  stone,  a  tin  box,  an  almanac 
of  obsolete  date,  and  a  calendar  two  years  old. 
Several  cuttings  from  newspapers  were  pinned 
on  the  roughly  plastered  walls;  there  was  a 
picture  of  Jefferson  Davis,  and  another  of  a 
southern  statesman;  their  display  was  for 
artistic  effect,  and  not  because  the  originals 
were  dear  to  memory.  Some  yellow  ears  of 
corn  hung  from  the  rafters:  a  long  brush  made 
of  heavy  dried  grasses  stood  in  a  corner  con 
venient  to  the  fireplace.  Stephen's  glance  did 
not  take  in  all  these  paltry  details,  but  was 
centred  immediately  on  the  figure  of  Wesley 
Anderson,  who  was  sitting  before  the  fire 
place,  with  his  head  sunk  on  his  breast. 
Stephen  laid  his  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Where  is  Theresa?" 

For  reply,  the  old  negro  shook  his  head  and 
buried  his  face  in  his  hands.  After  several  ef~ 


104  Stephen  the  Black 

forts  at  speech  he  held  out  a  crumpled,  twisted 
piece  of  paper  with  a  whispered  request  for 
Stephen  to  read  it. 

The  young  man  took  it  to  the  open  win 
dow.  When  he  had  mastered  its  contents, 
which  were  ill-spelt,  though  neatly  written  in 
characters  which  he  had  himself  helped  to  im 
prove,  he  groaned  aloud,  and  threw  the  paper 
on  the  table  with  a  passionate  gesture. 

"Lemme  hear  it  ag'in,"  said  the  stricken 
one,  turning  his  sad  eyes  upon  Stephen,  who 
seized  the  note  again  and  read  aloud  Theresa's 
parting  message  to  her  grandfather. 

"I  am  going  to  Perryville  to  Mr.  Ralph 
Aikens,  who  is  going  to  educate  me  for  a 
white  lady,  because  I  am  white.  Some  day  I 
am  coming  back  to  you  and  Lemuel  and  take 
you  back  with  me.  Do  not  forget  your  little 
white  bird  because  her  white  blood  calls  her 
away.  She  will  come  back  again  and  be  al 
ways  your  loving  Theresa." 

"Yes,  she  come  back,— she  come  back  like 
her  mudder  done,  to  die  of  a  broken  heart," 
muttered  Wesley,  in  quivering  accents. 


Stephen  the  Black  105 

"  How  long  has  she  been  gone  ?  Tell  me." 
Stephen  put  both  hands  on  the  old  negro's 
shoulders  and  shook  him. 

Wesley  told  him  what  little  there  was  to 
tell.  In  the  early  morning  Theresa  had  pre 
pared  his  breakfast  as  usual,  but  he  remem 
bered  that  she  had  embraced  him  with  pecul 
iar  tenderness  as  he  set  out  for  his  day's  work 
in  the  field,  while  her  eyes  looked  "like  two 
stars  in  a  well,"  he  said.  The  two  children 
had  started  quite  late  to  school,  Theresa  carry 
ing  a  little  bundle  and  wearing  a  straw  hat 
instead  of  her  sunbonnet.  After  going  a  short 
distance,  she  had  produced  the  note  already 
carefully  written  beforehand  and  told  Lemuel 
to  go  on  to  the  school  by  himself. 

She  showed  him  a  railroad  ticket  which  had 
been  given  her,  and  after  kissing  him  good 
bye,  she  made  her  way  alone  and  turned  into 
a  road  which  they  all  knew  led  to  the  nearest 
railroad  station,  leaving  Lemuel  rooted  to  the 
spot  with  wonder.  He  had  walked  mechan 
ically  on  to  the  schoolhouse,  but  turned  back 
from  its  door,  and,  after  a  prolonged  medita- 


io6  Stephen  the  Black 

tion  had  started  finally  on  a  full  run  to  his 
grandfather,  whom  he  found  in  the  field.  The 
latter  part  of  the  narrative  was  contributed  by 
Lemuel,  who  entered  the  cabin  as  soon  as  he 
heard  their  voices. 

"Why  didn't  you  act  a  man's  part  and 
go  with  your  sister  if  you  couldn't  persuade 
her  to  return  home?"  demanded  the  young 
teacher,  hoarsely. 

"Tressy,  she  say  she  white  and  know 
eberyting  what's  right  to  do,"  murmured  the 
abashed  youth,  rolling  his  tear-laden  eyes, 
while  he  clutched  his  wool  in  desperation. 
Stephen  threw  the  crumpled,  tear-stained  note 
again  on  the  table,  and  stood  silent  for  a  mo 
ment  in  anguish  of  thought.  A  faint  hope 
suddenly  sprang  within  him.  He  asked  what 
time  it  was  when  Theresa  left  the  house. 
Lemuel  thought  it  was  about  twelve  o'clock. 

"The  afternoon  train  leaves  at  1:30  for 
Perryville.  It  is  just  possible  she  may  have 
missed  that.  Why  didn't  you  follow  her  ? " 
Stephen  turned  his  angry,  reproachful  eyes  on 
Wesley. 


Stephen  the  Black  107 

The  old  darkey  fell  on  his  knees  beside 
Theresa's  little  bed. 

"  She's  ain't  de  fu'st  dat's  took  f'om  me  by 
de  white  man.  My  Evaline,  Tressy's  mudder, 
she  gone  dat  way.  Follerin'  ain't  no  use 
when  de  white  man  git  his  hold  on  yer  gurl. 
She  foller  him  till  he  leave  her,  an'  den  she 
come  back  to  die,  to  die!  All  de  strength 
gone  out  o'  dese  pore  ole  knees  when  I  hear 
dat  tumble  piece  o'  news.  Blessed  Jesus, 
what  for  yer  send  dis  tribulation  to  pore  ole 
nigger  what's  tryin'  to  keep  faith  an'  believe 
in  yer?  Was  yer  displease  'cause  I  tell  de 
folks  yer  was  comin'  dis  way  once  mo'  to 
lif  up  de  race?  Was  yer  displease  at  dis 
cornsequential,  wranglin'  ole  nigger,  an'  want 
to  lay  'im  low  ?  Oh,  blessed  Jesus,  I'se  gwine 
for  to  prophesy  no  mo' !  I'se  willin'  to  b'leeve 
de  black  folks  was  made  to  lie  under  de  heel 
o'  de  white  man,  foreber  and  eber,  if  dat  corn- 
fession  give  yer  sa'sfaction.  Lord  Jesus,  strike 
dis  ole  crazy,  shake-joint  dead,  tear  him  limb 
f'om  limb — but  fetch  back  dat  lily  white  bird 
dat  little  Tressy!" 


io8  Stephen  the  Black 

With  a  cry  of  rage— the  rage  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  when  his  chivalrous  instinct  for  the 
protection  of  the  weak  is  aroused— Stephen 
seized  his  hat  and  rushed  past  Lemuel,  whom 
he  nearly  knocked  down  in  his  desperate  haste 
to  get  out  of  the  cabin.  He  did  not  stop  to 
explain  his  despairing  hope  that  Theresa  might 
yet  be  found,  but  dashed  toward  the  railroad 
by  a  short  cut  across  the  fields,  and  followed 
the  track  toward  the  station.  He  ran  rapidly, 
springing  from  tire  to  tire  in  his  mad  haste, 
and  made  such  speed  that,  on  reaching  the 
station,  there  were  fifteen  minutes  to  spare 
before  the  arrival  of  the  evening  train  for 
Perryville.  In  fact  the  south-bound  train  had 
not  yet  appeared,  and  it  would  pass  before  the 
Perryville  express. 

Stephen  looked  hurriedly  into  every  corner 
of  the  waiting-rooms,  into  the  baggage-room, 
and  even  into  the  telegraph  office.  There  was 
no  sign  of  Theresa  Anderson. 

With  beating  heart  he  asked  the  ticket-agent 
if  a  young  girl — a  white  lady  in  a  straw  hat — had 
taken  the  train  for  Perryville  that  afternoon  ? 


Stephen  the  Black  109 

"Not  for  Perry ville:  she  boarded  the  train 
going  south,"  was  the  reply. 

Stephen's  heart  gave  a  bound.  The  train 
going  south — away  from  Perry  ville!  Was 
Theresa  skilled  enough  in  deception  to  plan 
deliberately  to  mislead  her  pursuers  ?  After 
a  moment's  reflection  he  decided  that  in  her 
ignorance  she  might  have  taken  the  south 
bound  train  by  mistake.  He  determined  to 
follow  on  the  train  now  nearly  due.  On 
looking  at  the  schedule  displayed  on  the  wall, 
he  saw  that  there  was  no  town  of  any  size  for 
many  miles  southward. 

It  seemed  unlikely  that  young  Aikens  should 
have  directed  Theresa  to  meet  him  in  any  lo 
cality  far  removed  from  the  town  of  Perry- 
ville  in  which  he  spent  most  of  his  time.  He 
asked  the  ticket-agent  what  happened  when 
persons  boarded  the  wrong  train,  and  received 
the  reply  that  they  were  put  off  at  the  next 
station. 

Theresa  might  have  taken  the  next  train 
back,  and  landed  in  Perryville  a  few  hours 
later.  Doubtless  she  had  done  so.  He  would 


no  Stephen  the  Black 

take  the  south-bound  train  first,  however,  and 
if  he  did  not  find  her  he  would  wait  at  the 
next  station  for  the  Perryville  train.  He 
bought  his  ticket  just  as  the  south-bound  train 
steamed  up  to  the  platform. 

Stephen  sat  only  a  few  minutes  in  the  col 
ored  coach  before  the  conductor  came  through 
and  took  up  the  ticket  which  entitled  him  to 
a  ride  as  far  as  the  next  station. 

"It's  a  flag  station,"  the  official  explained, 
"but  I'll  let  you  off." 

Doubtless  Theresa's  mistake— supposing  she 
had  made  a  mistake — would  have  been  dis 
covered  before  reaching  this  flag  station.  She 
would  have  been  put  off,  to  take  the  next 
train  back,  and  was  probably  now  in  Perry 
ville — "  where  I  shall  be  also  in  a  few  hours," 
Stephen  concluded.  He  made  up  his  mind  to 
spend  the  night  searching  for  her. 

The  train  slowed  up  to  permit  Stephen  to 
alight.  As  he  swung  himself  off,  he  per 
ceived  a  female  figure  seated  on  a  bench  by 
the  station  door  and  half  hidden  in  the  shadow 
of  the  building. 


Stephen  the  Black  1 1 1 

It  was  now  dark.  The  young  man  mounted 
the  steps  breathlessly,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on 
that  slight,  shrinking  figure,  by  the  side  of 
which  lay  a  small  bundle.  It  was  Theresa. 


CHAPTER  IX 

TREMBLING  with  excitement,  Stephen  stepped 
forward  without  speaking,  and  sat  down 
hastily  by  the  side  of  the  runaway.  He  was 
breathing  heavily,  and  for  the  moment,  speech 
was  impossible.  His  hand  clutched  the  girl's 
skirt  as  it  lay  on  the  edge  of  the  bench,  and 
he  realized  with  fierce  exultation,  that  she  was 
his  prisoner.  His  action  caused  her  to  turn 
suddenly  and  fix  her  gaze  upon  his  face. 
Looking  into  hers,  Stephen  was  conscious, 
even  through  the  dusk,  of  its  fairness;  he 
gasped  for  breath  and  his  hand  loosened  its 
hold  on  her  skirt.  Alas!  how  fair,  how  white, 
how  beautiful  she  was !  No  doubt  she  had  cal 
culated  the  cost  of  her  flight;  she  believed 
happiness  to  be  awaiting  her  and  counted  the 
bonds  of  racial  union  stronger  than  those 
made  by  the  laws  of  man.  How  could  he 
who  represented  only  the  associations  she 
was  fleeing  from,  hope  to  persuade  her  that 
112 


Stephen  the  Black  113 

worse  horrors  were  veiled  behind  that  gilded 
future  ?  Overcome  by  a  sudden  shameful  self- 
consciousness,  he  could  do  no  more  than 
whisper  her  name  hoarsely: 

"Theresa!" 

She  could  barely  see  his  face,  but  Stephen 
read  the  quick  disappointment  in  hers.  She 
had  at  first  mistaken  him  for  her  white  lover. 
He  found  his  voice  at  last. 

"  It's  only  I,  your  teacher.  I've  come  to 
take  you  back.  You  must  come  with  me — you 
do  not  know  what  you  are  doing,  Theresa." 

"I  give  my  promise  to  go  to  Perry ville.  I 
took  the  wrong  train,  and  the  one  back  didn't 
stop.  Oh,  why  can't  I  go  on  to-night  ?  What 
for  you  tryin'  to  hinder  me?"  she  cried, 
wringing  her  hands. 

"I  am  going  to  hinder  you  from  a  life  of 
shame.  Excuse  me,  I  haven't  the  skill  to  put 
it  in  soft  language.  I  don't  know  any  fine 
words  for  such  things.  I'm  a  common  ne 
gro, — you  can  despise  me  all  you  want  to, — 
I  have  no  white  skin  to  set  me  up  in  your 
estimation,  but  I  know  right  from  wrong.  I 


1 14  Stephen  the  Black 

am  not  going  to  let  you  do  this  thing.  You 
are  too  young — too  innocent — too  pure  to 
understand  what  it  means." 

"That  is  what  he  says,"  cried  the  girl, 
clasping  her  hands  and  turning  her  white  pro 
file  upward,  "that  I'm  innocent  and  pure  of 
heart  like  a  white  lady,  and  that  is  why  he 
loves  me! " 

"Ah!  and  he  would  take  advantage  of 
your  innocence,  would  he?  We'll  see  about 
that, — you  will  go  back  with  me" — Stephen 
caught  her  wrist  and  held  it  with  fingers  of 
iron,  "and  you  will  not  speak  to  that  man 
again ;  you  will  turn  away  from  every  white 
man  who  offers  you  his  admiration  or  his  love; 
his  love!  Without  marriage,  without  honor, 
without  a  legal  tie  to  bind  him ;  how  dare  he 
prate  to  you  of  love ! " 

"It's  the  law  that's  wrong — he  says  he  has 
to  obey  the  law,"  cried  the  frightened  child, 
piteously  trying  to  recall  the  white  man's 
arguments. 

"They  have  made  the  law  to  suit  them 
selves,  Theresa;  don't  talk  to  me  about  the 


Stephen  the  Black  115 

law !  It  exists  only  for  the  degradation  of  our 
poor  women! " 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment  while  The 
resa  pondered  these  bitter  words.  Finally  she 
said,  faintly, 

"  My  mother  was  married  to  a  white  man." 

"Not  married,"  he  contradicted,  sternly. 

"Oh,  yes, — she  was  his  colored  wife." 
This  phrase  was  no  invention  of  hers;  it  is  a 
familiar  one  in  the  Black  Belt. 

"Colored  wife!  God  in  heaven!  Is  that 
what  they  call  it  ?  There  is  no  such  thing  as 
a  colored  wife  to  a  white  man  down  here." 

Theresa  looked  at  him  and  began  to  tremble. 
"What  was  she?" 

"Let  the  angels  in  heaven  tell  what  she 
was,  I  cannot, — I  do  not  know.  Betrayed — 
broken-hearted — wronged — but  the  blame  was 
not  hers — no,  with  all  the  laws  of  the  State 
against  her,  how  could  she  be  held  responsi 
ble?  Oh,  my  poor  girl,  I  am  going  to  save 
you  from  that  fate,  if  I  have  to  kill  a  white 
devil  to  accomplish  it.  You  are  going  back 
with  me  on  the  next  train." 


ii6  Stephen  the  Black 

Theresa  gave  a  little  moan  and  hung  her 
head  in  an  attitude  of  shame.  She  made  no 
further  resistance. 

The  young  teacher  sat  watching  her  closely, 
with  his  hand  still  upon  her  wrist  This 
abominable  evil  was  not  to  be  committed; 
he  exulted  in  the  thought  that  he  had  arrived 
in  the  nick  of  time  to  circumvent  the  white 
man's  fiendish  plans. 

A  brilliant  light  gleamed  suddenly  in  the 
distance.  It  was  the  headlight  of  an  ap 
proaching  train.  With  a  shriek  and  a  roar  it 
rushed  past,  while  the  little  frame  station 
shivered  with  the  shock  of  the  reverberation, 
and  the  cold  night  air  blew  in  the  faces  of  the 
would-be  passengers,  stirring  Theresa's  thin 
gown. 

Stephen  rose  to  his  feet  with  an  exclama 
tion  of  intense  dismay.  He  remembered  that 
it  was  a  flag  station  and  he  should  have  asked 
to  have  the  train  stopped.  He  sat  down  again 
in  bewilderment  The  station-master  came 
out,  bearing  a  lantern,  which  he  flashed  in 
their  faces. 


Stephen  the  Black  117 

"What's  going  on  out  here?**  he  de 
manded,  roughly.  "What  are  you  two 
sitting  together  for  ?  The  lady's  been  here  all 
afternoon/*  His  suspicions  were  aroused  by 
the  disparity  of  color  In  the  two  faces  before 
him;  he  was  instantly  ready  to  protect  the 
white  womanhood  of  the  South  from  the 
horrors  of  race  amalgamation. 

"We're  both  colored,"  said  Stephen,  qui 
etly.  The  explanation  was  plausible  enough 
in  that  land  of  mixed  races,  but  to  satisfy  him 
self  further,  the  man  flashed  his  lantern  again 
in  Theresa's  face. 

"Most  people  would  hardly  think  it,  but  1 
reckon  I  can  tell  it  every  time.  You'd  better 
not  fool  away  any  more  time  round  here.  Go 
in  where  you  b*long,  to  the  colored  waiting- 
room.  You've  no  business  out  here.** 

The  belated  travelers  rose  hastily  to  leave 
the  station.  Stephen  knew  there  was  no  other 
train  until  midnight,  and  they  would  have  to 
walk  home.  He  was  too  absorbed  in  thought 
to  resent  the  insolence  which  was  cloaked  in 
the  authority  of  a  railroad  official,  but  walked 


ii8  Stephen  the  Black 

away  with  gloomy  eyes  and  set  lips,  Theresa 
following  him  meekly.  The  agent  called 
after  them : 

"  If  you're  lookin'  for  to  get  spliced,  there's 
a  nigger  preacher  over  yonder.  He's  got  a 
broomstick  you  can  jump  over — and  jumpin' 
backward  will  make  you  free  again,  when  you 
git  tired  o'  one  another."  He  laughed  coarsely 
as  he  sauntered  into  the  station. 

Stumblingly  poor  Theresa  made  her  way 
over  the  uneven  ground,  sometimes  falling 
against  her  escort  in  the  darkness.  Stephen 
held  out  his  hand  to  steady  her,  and,  as  he  did 
so,  with  the  station-master's  insulting  words 
ringing  in  his  ears,  an  idea  flashed  across  his 
brain.  He  stopped  suddenly,  hesitated,  and 
went  on  again. 

"Come  along,"  he  said,  encouragingly. 

"Where  are  we  going?"  The  sound  of 
tears  was  in  her  voice.  Stephen  told  her  they 
would  have  to  walk  home,  a  distance  of  six 
miles.  It  was  unfortunate  that  there  was  no 
moonlight.  Even  the  stars  refused  to  shine. 
Perhaps  they  could  hire  a  buggy  somewhere. 


Stephen  the  Black  119 

He  peered  around,  but  there  seemed  to  be  no 
settlement  near.  The  country  looked  wild  and 
desolate.  Not  very  far  distant,  however,  he 
noticed  a  faint,  gleaming  light  that  might  in 
dicate  a  humble  dwelling.  Perhaps  it  was  the 
home  of  the  negro  preacher. 

He  looked  down  again  at  the  panting  young 
creature  by  his  side.  How  evident  that  she 
stood  in  need  of  a  man's  protection, — and  again 
the  novel  idea  took  possession  of  him.  There 
were  reasons  for  and  against  it.  There  was  a 
lack  of  dignity  in  such  haste,  but  above  all 
stood  out  the  great  compensating  fact  that  this 
frail  child  needed  to  be  fenced  in  by  some  one's 
protecting  care;  and  was  it  not  the  only  way 
out  of  the  present  situation,  the  only  way  to 
save  her  good  name? 

Stephen  did  not  want  a  wife,  but  the  desire 
to  thwart  the  evil  schemes  of  her  would-be  be 
trayer  was  strong  within  him.  He  was  mas 
terful  and  strong  of  spirit  and  did  not  doubt 
his  ability  to  defend  his  future  wife  against 
villains  of  the  deepest  dye— black  or  white. 
Retributive  justice  demanded  that  he  should 


120  Stephen  the  Black 

take  upon  himself  the  role  of  the  avenger  as 
well  as  that  of  the  rescuer  of  forlorn  innocence. 
He  would  punish  the  white  man  by  marrying 
his  intended  victim.  Besides  there  was  no 
other  way  by  which  he  might  become  the  legal 
protector  of  this  frail  creature.  Having  reached 
this  heroic  conclusion,  he  stopped  again,  with 
an  air  of  resolution.  Theresa  was  weeping 
silently  and  holding  on  to  his  hand. 

"Theresa,  there's  only  one  thing  for  us  to 
do.  I  want  to  protect  you  if  I  can,  but  there's 
only  one  way  to  manage  it." 

She  looked  up  inquiringly,  but  could  not  see 
his  face. 

"Let  us  get  married,  Theresa.  Over  yon- 
der's  the  clergyman.  It  will  be  the  best  thing 
for  you." 

Sobbing  violently,  she  still  clung  to  his 
hand. 

"You  think  I  been  wicked — an'  my  mother 
too!" 

"No,  no;  God  forbid  that  I  should  sit  in 
judgment  of  her, — poor  soul — she  lived  ac 
cording  to  the  light  that  was  given  her.  God 


Stephen  the  Black  121 

will  judge  him,  not  her.  Think  of  her  as  spot 
less,  sinned  against  but  sinless!  I  believe  the 
angels  in  heaven  have  a  place  set  apart  for 
her, — for  all  such  as  her,  Theresa,— they  weep, 
they  weep  over  her  fate,  but  they  do  not  con 
demn.  Neither  must  you.  But  1  should  be 
condemned  if  I  permitted  another  sacrifice  of 
this  kind.  I  am  here  to  save  you — to  marry 
you,  so  I  can  protect  you.  Will  you  have  me, 
Theresa?" 

"  I  don't  keer  what  I  do  now,"  she  answered, 
forlornly. 

He  understood  that  she  consented,  for  she 
followed  him  willingly,  still  clinging  to  his 
hand.  They  made  their  way  along  the  road 
toward  the  dim  light  which  seemed  to  be  the 
only  cheerful  spark  in  the  universe  at  that  mo 
ment. 

Stephen  knocked  and  the  door  was  soon 
opened. 

"We  want  you  to  marry  us,  please,"  he 
said,  briefly. 

The  preacher,  who  was  in  his  shirt-sleeves, 
stared  at  them. 


122  Stephen  the  Black 

"  Hey  ?"  he  said,  doubtfully. 

"We're  both  colored,"  said  Stephen.  The 
negro's  face  showed  relief. 

"Come  right  along  in  an'  set  down."  His 
face  beamed. 

"  I  got  a  new  prayer-book  and  you's  can 
have  the  first  cere-money  out  o'  it.  'Scuse  my 
misunderstandin'  what  job  yer  wanted.  We 
has  to  be  keerful  nowadays  on  account  o'  so 
many  lynchin's.  I  ain't  gwine  to  mix  up  in 
any  'malagamation  business  ef  I  kin  help  it, — 
no  sah!"  Laughing,  he  shook  his  head, 
knowingly. 

They  entered  the  small,  close  room  of  his 
cabin,  and  the  preacher  summoned  his  wife 
and  mother-in-law  as  witnesses.  It  was 
quite  a  tedious  ceremony,  for  he  bungled 
through  several  prayers  of  extraordinary 
length,  and  read  them  an  exhortation  which 
greatly  tried  Stephen's  patience.  The  busi 
ness  of  filling  out  the  marriage  certificate  was 
also  an  interminable  process.  When  Stephen 
paid  the  worthy  man  it  did  seem  as  if  he  had 
more  than  earned  his  modest  fee  by  the  even- 


Stephen  the  Black  123 

ing's  performance.  He  followed  them  to  the 
door  with  extravagantly  expressed  wishes  for 
their  future  happiness,  and  pronounced  a  sec 
ond  benediction  before  they  could  descend  the 
tumble-down  steps  of  his  little  shanty. 

Stephen  grasped  his  wife's  hand  firmly  as 
he  led  her  into  the  darkness. 

"Now  we're  all  right,"  he  said,  with  brief 
satisfaction,  and  they  walked  on  in  silence. 

There  was  nothing  else  to  do  but  return  to 
the  station  and  wait  there  for  the  midnight 
train.  Quite  weary  they  reached  its  inhospi 
table  shelter  and  made  their  way  immediately 
into  the  waiting-room  designated  for  colored 
people.  An  oil  lamp  cast  a  weak,  ineffectual 
glare  into  their  faces.  Stephen  noticed  the 
pallor  of  Theresa's  face  and  her  air  of  exhaus 
tion  and  depression.  She  sat  down  on  the 
bench.  As  he  observed  her  pale  beauty  he 
thought  of  his  own  dark  skin,  his  homely  fea 
tures,  which  bore  all  the  marks  of  his  degraded 
race.  He  looked  at  Theresa's  silky  hair,  and 
instinctively,  as  he  removed  his  hat,  he  passed 
his  hand  over  his  head  and  felt  the  close  tightly 


124  Stephen  the  Black 

curling  locks  which,  more  than  any  other 
characteristic,  told  the  tale  of  African  descent. 
"  She  was  never  meant  to  be  wife  of  mine," 
was  his  mournful  reflection.  He  had  no 
knowledge  of  his  Anglo-Saxon  inheritance 
to  draw  upon  for  comfort.  It  would  have 
yielded  a  very  dubious  kind  of  comfort  for 
that  matter.  He  sat  down  near  her,  but  not 
by  her  side,  and  was  soon  lost  in  painful 
thoughts.  Theresa  laid  her  head  on  her  bun 
dle  of  clothing  and  appeared  to  fall  asleep.  In 
this  manner  they  spent  the  long  hours  until 
the  arrival  of  the  midnight  train,  Stephen  tak 
ing  care  this  time  to  have  it  flagged  in  ad 
vance.  The  station-master  lived  near  and 
came  over  a  few  minutes  before  its  arrival. 
He  was  too  sleepy  and  cross  to  take  any  fur 
ther  notice  of  the  young  couple.  They 
climbed  awkwardly  into  the  colored  coach, 
there  being  no  assistance  extended  by  the 
conductor.  Theresa  stood  helpless  before 
the  high  steps  until  Stephen,  coming  to  his 
senses,  seized  her  in  awkward  haste,  and 
lifted  her  from  the  ground  to  the  platform — 


Stephen  the  Black  125 

scrambling  up  himself  as  the  train  gave  a 
jerk  which  threw  them  both  into  the  door 
way,  and  precipitated  them  into  the  first  un 
occupied  seat. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  newly  made  bridegroom's  thoughts 
were  busy  with  financial  calculations  on  the 
way  home.  With  his  limited  means  the  sup 
port  of  a  wife  was  a  prodigious  undertaking, 
and  the  more  he  thought  of  it  the  more  desir 
able  seemed  the  project  of  educating  Theresa 
at  a  boarding-school,  where  she  would  be 
safe  until  her  education  was  completed  and 
her  mind  more  matured.  Stephen  decided  he 
could  accomplish  this  by  working  hard  during 
the  long  vacations,  and  by  utilizing  what  was 
left  of  his  savings  in  a  Northern  bank. 

As  Stephen  and  Theresa  drew  near  to  their 
destination,  the  late  rising  moon  broke  through 
the  clouds  and  painted  the  humble  cabin  of 
the  Andersons  in  the  desolate  beauty  of  a 
black  and  white  crayon  sketch  on  grey  paper. 

It  was  an  easy  task  to  arouse  Wesley  from 
his  first  hour  of  uneasy  slumber,  but  there 
was  some  delay  before  he  appeared  at  the 
126 


Stephen  the  Black  127 

door,  holding  a  stump  of  a  candle  above  his 
head  in  an  effort  to  discover  the  identity  of  his 
midnight  callers. 

He  recognized  Stephen  first  and  afterward 
his  granddaughter,  but  it  was  not  until  they 
were  both  indoors  and  the  candle  set  down 
somewhere  with  a  trembling  hand  that  he 
pronounced  Theresa's  name  in  a  broken  voice, 
and  she  with  a  stifled  cry  fell  into  his  arms 
and  broke  into  passionate  weeping. 

No  word  of  reproach  escaped  the  old  darky 
as  he  patted  his  grandchild's  head.  Only 
broken  ejaculations  of  gratitude,  tearful,  ex 
travagant  and  tender,  fell  from  his  lips  during 
those  moments  of  unexpected  and  happy  re 
union.  Stephen,  leaning  against  the  edge  of 
a  table,  regarded  this  climax  of  the  day's 
events  with  eyes  that  were  sad  as  well  as 
tired,  and  with  an  emotion  not  visible  in  his 
dark  face.  It  was  worth  much  to  witness 
such  a  scene  and  to  feel  that  he  had  been  the 
chief  agent  in  bringing  it  about. 

Soon  afterward,  he  stole  unobserved  from 
the  room  and  seated  himself  on  the  cabin  steps 


128  Stephen  the  Black 

in  the  moonlight,  intending  to  leave  the  house 
hold  for  a  short  time  to  itself  before  broaching 
the  subject  of  his  marriage  and  his  plans  for 
Theresa's  future.  Somehow  he  hoped  and 
rather  expected  that  she  would  confide  the 
fact  of  her  marriage  to  her  grandfather,  but 
when  Wesley,  noticing  his  absence,  followed 
him  to  the  steps  in  a  panic  of  self-reproachful 
hospitality,  it  was  evident  that  the  information 
had  not  yet  been  given. 

It  was  an  awkward  enough  piece  of  news 
to  break  hastily.  Apologetically  and  with  a 
somewhat  rueful  countenance,  Stephen  ex 
plained  why  he  had  urged  the  marriage  and 
what  protection  he  hoped  it  would  afford 
Theresa.  To  his  surprise,  the  old  negro  re 
ceived  the  news  with  joy,  and  eagerly  held 
counsel  with  him  over  Theresa's  future.  But 
it  was  evident  that  Wesley  dreaded  the  anger 
of  young  Aikens  on  finding  that  his  scheme 
had  been  frustrated,  as  well  as  his  continued 
influence  over  Theresa. 

Stephen  described  in  glowing  colors  the 
great  colored  school  of  the  South  where  he 


Stephen  the  Black  129 

believed  Theresa  would  be  kindly  received  and 
thoroughly  protected.  The  summer  vacation 
was  at  hand,  but  the  school  never  closed  all 
its  departments  even  during  the  months  of  va 
cation,  and  Theresa  would  have  in  the  night 
classes  an  opportunity  to  prepare  herself  for 
the  regular  session  in  the  fall.  The  remnant 
of  his  savings  in  the  Northern  bank  would 
just  about  pay  her  summer  expenses,  and 
after  that,  he  hoped  to  earn  more. 

Never  before  had  such  munificent  provision 
as  this  aided  poor  old  Wesley  in  his  anxious, 
groping  efforts  to  care  for  his  little  family. 
Stephen  insisted  that  no  time  should  be  lost  in 
getting  Theresa  to  the  school.  She  was  now 
willing  to  go,  or  at  least  offered  no  objection 
to  the  plan,  but  in  twenty-four  hours,  her  mind 
might  set  itself  firmly  the  other  way. 

Wesley  agreed  to  this  and  together  they 
planned  that  Lemuel  should  start  with  her  in 
the  early  morning.  Abraham,  the  ox,  might 
now  prove  himself  to  be  a  timely  acquisition, 
inasmuch  as  he  could  be  harnessed  by  means 
of  ropes  to  an  affair  on  wheels  (consisting  of 


130  Stephen  the  Black 

two  boards  laid  across  two  axles)  which 
Wesley  called  his  "wagon"  and  which  had 
been  presented  to  him  by  his  landlord  shortly 
after  the  purchase  of  the  ox.  Whatever  this 
vehicle  might  leave  to  the  imagination,  .the 
wheels  were  good  enough  to  travel  at  least  as 
far  as  the  great  school,  and  Wesley  was  sure 
that  the  boards  could  be  made  secure  by  the 
help  of  nails  and  pegs. 

Although  Stephen  would  have  preferred  to 
hire  a  mule  for  the  occasion,  he  yielded  in 
favor  of  the  ox,  on  the  strength  of  Wesley's 
enthusiastic  assurances  that  Abraham  could 
travel  as  far  and  as  fast  as  any  mule  on  the 
plantation,  and  excelled  every  known  animal 
in  a  happy  blending  of  amiability  and  strength. 
As  he  was  now  engaged  in  eating  his  head  off 
in  a  rear  shanty,  it  was  no  wonder  that  his 
owner  wanted  to  utilize  these  costly  virtues. 
Stephen  saw  moreover  a  real  advantage  in  the 
use  of  whatever,  clumsy  steed  Wesley  pos 
sessed,  as  it  would  enable  Theresa  to  start  on 
her  journey  without  making  it  known  before 
hand  to  any  one  on  the  plantation.  Secrecy 


Stephen  the  Black  131 

was  to  be  observed  as  well  as  haste,  if  Theresa 
was  to  reach  her  destination  in  safety.  It  was 
important  that  young  Aikens  should  have  no 
knowledge  of  her  trip  beforehand.  Fortu 
nately,  the  route  to  the  school  would  not  take 
her  near  Perry  ville.  Wesley  insisted  also  that  it 
was  necessary  to  conceal  Stephen's  share  of 
responsibility  in  the  whole  affair,  and  begged 
him  to  open  his  school  the  next  morning  as 
if  nothing  had  happened. 

When  the  plan  for  her  sudden  departure 
was  explained  to  Theresa,  she  consented  in 
differently  but  stipulated  that  Stephen  should 
carry  a  message  to  Ralph  Aikens  and  return  to 
him  the  railroad  ticket  which  he  had  given 
her.  This  embarrassing  task  he  agreed  will 
ingly  enough  to  do,  but  when  he  suggested 
that  it  would  also  be  wise  to  inform  Ralph  of 
her  marriage,  Theresa  cried  out  in  agitation 
against  it,  and  to  his  surprise  her  grandfather 
did  the  same  with  even  greater  vehemence. 

The  rest  of  the  night  was  spent  in  hurried 
preparations  for  Theresa's  flight,  if  a  journey 
behind  the  deliberate  Abraham  might  be  so 


132  Stephen  the  Black 

termed.  While  Stephen  and  Wesley  worked 
away  by  the  light  of  the  moon  and  a  lantern, 
pounding  and  screwing  the  skeleton  of  a 
wagon  into  shape,  and  disentangling  a  mass 
of  knotted  ropes  which  Wesley  called  his 
"harness,"  Theresa  and  Lemuel,  in  a  tumble 
down  cabin  adjoining, — which  served  as  a 
kitchen  in  warm  weather — baked  some  corn- 
bread,  fried  a  piece  of  bacon,  and  ground  the 
coffee  for  a  meal  that  might  have  been  con 
sidered  either  supper  or  breakfast.  The  two 
conspirators  outside  were  then  summoned  to 
the  table,  on  which  a  lamp  was  now  stand 
ing,  while  a  couple  of  candles  which  Lemuel 
had  placed  on  the  mantelpiece  spluttered  their 
best  to  lend  an  air  of  festive  brightness  to  the 
marriage  feast. 

Lemuel  was  in  a  befogged  state  of  mind 
over  his  sister's  attitude.  He  regarded  her 
with  curious,  watchful  eyes,  and  decided  that 
her  expression  lacked  the  mirth  and  jollity 
which  he  always  associated  with  weddings. 
The  occasion  seemed  to  him  one  of  sincere 
rejoicing,  however,  and  he  determined  to  do 


Stephen  the  Black  133 

his  part  to  increase  the  gayety  of  the  affair: 
he  succeeded,  therefore,  in  looking  as  cheer 
ful  as  it  is  possible  for  any  human  being  to 
look  who  is  left  out  of  the  family  consulta 
tions  and  finds  himself  without  a  key  to  the 
situation. 

The  moon  had  disappeared  behind  a  mass 
of  clouds,  the  ground  was  wet  with  dew,  and 
a  heavy  fog  hung  over  the  cotton-field  as 
Abraham,  just  before  daybreak,  stood  in  all  the 
glory  of  his  rope  trappings  before  the  cabin- 
door.  Stephen,  Wesley  and  Lemuel  stood 
grouped  by  the  side  of  the  rude  cart  after 
handing  Theresa  to  the  seat  of  honor.  She 
was  comfortably  enthroned  on  a  kitchen  chair 
which  had  been  placed  on  the  low  boards  and 
securely  held  there  by  some  method  as  myste 
rious  as  it  was  ingenious.  Lemuel  mounted  a 
box  proudly  in  front,  his  legs  dangling  down 
behind  Abraham's  tail.  The  ox  carried  a  yoke, 
but  Lemuel  intended  to  guide  him  by  reins  of 
rope  which  were  tied  to  his  horns.  Behind 
Theresa  was  a  great  pile  of  tough  grass  and 
dried  corn  stalks  for  the  future  comfort  of 


134  Stephen  the  Black 

Abraham,  and  at  her  feet  a  bag  of  cornmeal 
lay  for  the  use  of  the  whole  party.  She  wore 
her  sunbonnet  which  her  grandfather  charged 
her  not  to  remove  until  she  reached  her  jour 
ney's  end;  a  knitted  shawl  was  around  her 
shoulders,  and  in  her  lap  she  held  a  package 
of  lunch  and  a  bundle  done  up  in  an  old  news 
paper. 

It  was  a  melancholy  leave-taking  notwith 
standing  that  everybody  tried  to  smile  brightly 
and  talk  hopefully  of  her  return  as  an  accom 
plished  scholar  and  teacher,  but  it  was  evident 
that  they  smiled  through  their  tears.  A  wed 
ding  journey,  with  the  bridegroom  left  be 
hind,  is  seldom  an  hilarious  affair.  Stephen 
gave  her  a  letter  to  the  principal  of  the  school 
and  promised  faithfully  to  deliver  her  message 
in  Perryville.  Wesley  could  not  speak,  but 
persisted  in  smiling  painfully,  busying  himself 
all  the  while  about  the  cart  until  Lemuel 
cracked  his  whip,  when  he  seized  the  girl's 
hand  in  a  last  embrace  and  hugged  it  to  his 
heart  with  a  prayer  for  her  protection.  Stephen 
charged  Lemuel  to  drive  carefully  and  to  re- 


Stephen  the  Black  135 

member  the  little  Quaker  school  which  he 
would  pass  on  the  way  and  if  it  should  prove 
to  be  near  dark  when  they  reached  that  point, 
to  remain  there  over  night. 

The  ox  stepped  off  solemnly,  drawing  his 
singular-looking  chariot  slowly  into  the  white 
mist  beyond  which  nothing  could  be  seen, 
Lemuel  felt  in  his  pocket  once  more  and  was 
comforted  by  the  cold  touch  of  a  huge  rusty 
derringer  with  which  he  had  secretly  armed 
himself  in  defence  of  his  sister.  He  had 
neither  cartridge  nor  powder,  but  the  presence 
of  the  empty  weapon  gave  him  courage,  and 
contributed  a  vague  suggestion  of  adventures 
to  come. 

Theresa  bowed  her  head  as  the  shadows  of 
the  night  and  the  mists  of  the  morning  en 
veloped  her.  She  shivered  as  she  wiped  away 
her  tears.  She  pulled  her  bonnet  far  over  her 
forehead  as  her  grandfather  charged  her  to  do, 
and  promised  to  look  neither  to  the  right  nor 
to  the  left  on  this  strange,  lonely  journey. 

The  grandfather  and  the  newly-made  hus 
band  stood  watching  the  ghostly,  creaking 


136  Stephen  the  Black 

vehicle  as  long  as  it  remained  in  sight.  They 
hoped  it  would  pass  through  the  plantation 
unobserved  by  other  eyes  than  their  own. 
Gladly  would  either  of  them  have  accom 
panied  Theresa,  but  humble,  obscure  folk 
such  as  these  are  accustomed  to  plan  accord 
ing  to  their  means  and  to  leave  the  rest  to 
Providence.  We  are  not  to  suppose  that  their 
sensibilities  were  less  keen  or  the  dangers  less 
apparent  to  their  understanding  because  they 
submitted  thus  patiently  to  a  ruling  that  was 
adverse  to  the  cry  of  their  hearts.  To  guard 
one's  best  beloved  from  every  known  and 
conceivable  danger  is  the  happy  privilege  of 
the  rich,  but  they  err  who  conclude  that  the 
poor  love  less  and  therefore  suffer  less  when 
they  trust  theirs  to  God, — or  that  their  bread 
is  any  sweeter  because  it  is  watered  so  often 
with  the  tears  of  loneliness  and  apprehension. 


CHAPTER  XI 

IT  was  an  odd  experience  for  these  two 
ignorant  children  to  be  traveling  alone  in  what 
seemed  to  be  the  dead  of  the  night,  the  still 
ness  being  broken  only  by  the  sound  of  Abra 
ham's  hoofs,  the  creaking  of  the  wheels  and 
the  occasional  thumping  of  the  boards  when 
they  crossed  the  uneven  pieces  of  ground 
which  Lemuel  called  "thank-you-marms." 
He  had  no  fear  of  not  reaching  his  destination, 
for  he  knew  the  way  to  the  old  pike  road  and 
after  that  it  was  plain  sailing,  for  Stephen  had 
told  him  they  had  only  to  follow  the  old  pike 
until  they  should  come  to  the  village  from 
which  the  school  takes  its  name  and  near 
which  it  stands.  But  to  Theresa  it  seemed  a 
long,  mysterious  route  before  they  reached 
the  pike,  because  nothing  was  visible  about 
them  except  the  mist  in  which  they  were 
shrouded  and  through  which  they  could 
hardly  discern  the  outlines  of  Abraham's 
137 


138  Stephen  the  Black 

heavy  dimensions.  The  vapors  began  to  lift, 
however,  as  they  turned  into  the  pike,  and 
they  could  now  see  a  little  piece  of  road 
ahead,  and  the  hedges  on  either  side.  Day 
was  surely  breaking,  and  when  Lemuel 
pointed  out  the  sun  rising  on  their  right, 
Theresa's  heart  grew  a  little  less  heavy, — 
but  she  closed  her  eyes  apprehensively. 

When  she  ventured  to  open  them  again, 
how  beautiful  the  world  had  grown  in  that 
short  time!  The  mist  had  taken  itself  at  least 
half  a  mile  away,  and  close  at  hand  was  the 
lovely,  familiar  foliage  of  the  South,  looking 
just  as  it  had  always  looked  around  the  spot 
she  called  home, — the  Black  Jack  Oak  leaves 
were  as  large  and  shiny  as  she  had  ever  known 
them ;  the  small  persimmon  and  the  red  haw 
trees  were  mingling  their  branches  in  the 
same  intimate  fashion;  "Joe  Week"  was  ut 
tering  his  shrill  cry  from  hedge  to  hedge  and 
the  mocking  bird  was  singing  the  song  he 
had  sung  all  spring.  Her  world  of  cotton- 
fields  was  stretching  far  away  to  the  horizon; 
and  Theresa  was  comforted  by  the  thought 


Stephen  the  Black  139 

that  though  she  might  travel  onward  for 
many  miles,  the  face  of  the  scenery  would 
still  be  as  she  had  always  known  it. 

They  passed  hedges  thick  with  roses,  afflicted 
woods  veiled  in  sombre  moss,  and  many  a 
"slough  "  in  which  the  wagon  stood  deep  in 
water  and  sometimes  slid  into  a  hole;  and  on 
such  occasions,  Abraham  would  stand  still 
patiently,  after  drinking  all  the  water  he  could 
conveniently  hold,  as  if  convinced  he  was  now 
at  his  journey's  end.  With  shouts,  kicks,  and 
jerks  of  the  ropes,  Lemuel  would  at  last  get 
him  started,  and  the  vehicle  with  many  creaks 
and  groans  would  land  safely  on  the  rising 
ground  beyond.  But  sometimes  these  sloughs 
were  ill-looking  and  evil-smelling,  and  as  they 
felt  the  breath  of  the  swamp  in  their  faces, 
they  were  thankful  when  Abraham  disdained 
the  black  water  and  pulled  them  hurriedly  out 
of  its  slimy  depths. 

They  met  with  no  adventures  by  the  way. 
No  one  accosted  them  except  innocent,  dark- 
skinned,  country  folk  like  themselves.  They 
saw  very  few  white  persons.  The  black  peas- 


140  Stephen  the  Black 

ants  were  at  work  early  in  the  field  with  their 
wives  and  older  boys  and  girls  beside  them. 
Many  were  the  cabins  they  passed  in  which 
very  young  children  were  apparently  the  only 
inmates.  They  clustered  about  the  door, 
barelegged,  inquisitive  and  speechlessly  shy, 
— holding  sometimes  in  their  arms  babies 
nearly  as  big  as  themselves. 

The  sun  was  very  bright;  the  atmosphere 
seemed  brilliantly  clear;  every  object  was 
sharply  defined  and  every  tree  cast  a  very 
black  shadow.  In  one  of  these  refreshing 
shadows  they  stopped  to  eat  their  lunch,  and 
Lemuel  fed  the  ox  generously  on  meal  and 
corn  stalks.  It  was  not  a  nutritious  diet,  but 
neither  the  ox  nor  Lemuel  knew  differently, 
and  it  was  the  customary  fare  for  cattle  in  the 
Black  Belt. 

Lemuel  inquired  of  many  the  distance  to 
the  school,  but  the  report  was  always  that  it 
lay  very  far  ahead.  The  field-hands  looked 
doubtfully  at  the  slow-treading  ox,  and  feared 
it  would  be  impossible  for  the  travelers  to 
reach  the  great  school  before  night 


Stephen  the  Black  141 

Lemuel  then  bethought  himself  of  the 
Quaker  school  and  inquired  how  far  it  lay 
ahead.  The  answers  were  more  encouraging. 
It  seemed  to  be  within  reach,  and  to  offer 
them  a  hope  of  shelter  for  the  night. 

It  was  past  sundown  when  they  arrived  in 
sight  of  the  two  large,  white,  frame  buildings 
which  proved  to  be  the  Quaker  school. 
Lemuel  descended  from  his  box  and  knocked 
at  the  door  of  the  smaller  building;  the  front 
porch  was  a  bower  of  roses  and  honeysuckles, 
while  neat  muslin  curtains  peeped  from  the 
windows  through  half-closed  green  shut 
ters. 

It  was  some  time  before  the  elderly  Quaker 
ess  who  opened  the  door  could  grasp  the  situ 
ation  and  decide  what  to  do  with  her  odd- 
looking  visitors.  The  contrast  between  the 
sister  and  brother  as  well  as  the  striking 
beauty  of  the  former  at  once  enlisted  her  in 
terest.  Several  assistant  teachers  gathered 
near  to  have  a  look  at  the  weary  ox  and  the 
primitive  vehicle  which  had  brought  these 
young  wanderers  so  far. 


142  Stephen  the  Black 

Lemuel  presented  his  explanatory  statement 
without  his  usual  plaintive  drawl: 

"  All  de  white  blood  in  de  fam'ly  gone  to 
make  up  Tressy— leff  me  all  black!  "  He  pro 
duced  it  this  time  as  a  piece  of  scientific  infor 
mation,  and  was  surprised  at  the  distress  it 
brought  into  the  faces  of  the  gentle  Quakers. 

Theirs  was  only  a  day-school,  and  they  had 
no  accommodations  for  boarders,  but  they 
agreed  to  keep  the  children  over  night  and  to 
feed  and  shelter  the  faithful  Abraham. 

That  evening  these  lowly  descendants  of  an 
enslaved  race  sat  down  before,  a  white  supper- 
table  by  the  side  of  white  women,  and  basked 
in  the  light  of  their  gracious  presence.  They 
drank  in  their  delicate  refinement,  their  little 
social  graces;  they  were  permitted  to  handle 
their  old  china,  and  to  examine  the  simple 
ornaments  and  pictures  of  their  charming 
home.  Joy  filled  Theresa's  soul  for  the  mo 
ment,  but  mingled  with  it  was  a  tremulous 
consciousness  that  she  was  again  partaking  of 
forbidden  fruit. 

When  the  time  for  their  departure  came  the 


Stephen  the  Black  143 

next  morning,  they  climbed  sorrowfully  back 
into  their  uncouth  chariot.  The  tender  char 
ity  which  was  in  the  heart  of  the  elder  Quak 
eress  for  their  race,  beamed  from  her  aged 
eyes  and  seemed  to  pronounce  a  benediction 
over  their  young  heads.  They  would  gladly 
have  stayed  with  her,  but  she  assured  them 
that  at  the  school  which  lay  beyond  they 
would  find  all  the  good  and  great  things  that 
the  people  of  their  race  were  yearning  for,  so 
they  said  farewell  with  what  grace  they  could 
and  turned  their  faces  hopefully  onward. 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  they  met  many  odd 
looking  vehicles  bearing  all  manner  of  queerly 
clad  colored  folk,  loaded  down  with  provisions, 
hay  and  dry  goods.  But  the  vehicles  were 
not  any  more  strange  looking  than  their  own, 
and  the  people  in  them  were  not  different  in 
appearance  from  those  they  had  been  accus 
tomed  to  see  about  them  always.  It  was  Sat 
urday,  and  those  tenants  who  lived  within  a 
few  miles  of  the  town  were  returning  with 
their  month's  supplies  which  they  had  ob 
tained  either  from  the  merchants  or  their 


144  Stephen  the  Black 

landlords.     The  town  was  very  near.     They 
reached  it  before  sundown. 

After  crossing  the  village  and  climbing  a 
gentle  hill,  Lemuel's  delighted  eyes  beheld  in 
the  distance  the  smoke-stack,  the  tall  chim 
neys  and  the  many  buildings  of  the  great 
Normal  and  Industrial  School  of  the  colored 
people.  A  large  American  flag  which  floated 
above  the  roof  of  the  tallest  building  gave  a 
finishing  touch  to  the  air  of  victorious  achieve 
ment  which  seemed  to  distinguish  this  spot 
from  all  others  in  the  southern  landscape.  His 
boyish  soul  was  thrilled  at  the  sight,  but  as 
Theresa  looked,  she  remembered  only  that  it 
was  a  "nigger  school,"  and  that  she  was  to 
enter  it  as  a  colored  pupil. 


CHAPTER  XII 

STEPHEN  was  not  long  in  finding  Ralph 
Aikens'  office  on  the  day  devoted  to  the  exe 
cution  of  Theresa's  errand.  He  mounted  the 
stairs  slowly  and  knocked  at  the  door  bear 
ing  the  lawyer's  name  in  black  letters.  A 
voice  within  bade  him  enter,  and  on  pushing 
open  the  door  Stephen  found  himself  facing 
two  men  who  were  apparently  enjoying  an 
informal  chat;  they  were  both  smoking;  a 
decanter  of  whiskey,  two  glasses  and  a  pitcher 
of  ice-water  were  on  a  table  before  them. 

In  a  suppressed  voice,  Stephen  stated  that 
he  wished  to  speak  to  Mr.  Aikens. 

"Speak  on,"  said  the  owner  of  that  name, 
indifferently. 

Stephen  was  disinclined  to  state  his  errand 
in  the  presence  of  a  third  person,  but  as  it 
was  evident  that  he  was  not  to  be  granted  a 
private  interview,  he  opened  his  pocketbook 

145 


146  Stephen  the  Black 

and  took  out  the  railroad  ticket  which  he  laid 
on  the  table  in  front  of  young  Aikens. 

"I  was  asked  to  deliver  this  into  your 
hands,"  he  said,  disconcerted  to  find  that  his 
voice  was  hoarse,  and  his  tongue  unnaturally 
stiff  and  dry.  Perhaps  his  eyes  looked  un 
usually  bright,  and  it  may  be  that  his  hand 
trembled  as  he  laid  the  ticket  on  the  table. 

"What's  the  matter  with  the  fellow?" 
asked  Ralph's  companion,  laying  his  cigar  on 
the  table,  and  studying  the  face  of  the  black 
with  curiosity. 

"  Damned  impertinence,"  muttered  Ralph,  a 
dark  flush  mounting  to  his  forehead.  "Take 
yourself  off — we  don't  care  to  be  interrupted 
this  afternoon." 

But  Stephen  was  determined  to  deliver 
Theresa's  message  with  unmistakable  clear 
ness.  He  had  concluded  on  the  way  thither, 
after  deep  thought  on  the  subject,  that  it 
would  be  more  delicate  not  to  mention  her 
name. 

"A  young  girl  living  on  Colonel  Aikens' 
plantation  asks  me  to  say  that  she  returns  this 


Stephen  the  Black  147 

ticket  because  she  did  not  understand  your 
meaning,  sir,  when  she  agreed  to  carry  out 
your  instructions.  She  was  too  innocent  to 
understand!"  Stephen  made  no  effort  to  sup 
press  the  thrill  of  indignation  in  his  voice,  or 
the  flash  of  righteous  anger  in  his  eyes,  and 
these  evidences  of  feeling  were  most  un 
happily  out  of  place,  if  his  intention  had  been 
to  conduct  the  interview  peaceably. 

The  result  of  his  speech  was  an  exclamation 
of  fury  from  young  Aikens  as  he  rose  quickly 
to  his  feet,  while  an  amused  laugh  broke  from 
his  friend,  who  rose  negligently,  showing 
himself  to  be  a  powerfully  built  man,  at  least 
six  feet  in  height.  He  towered  over  the 
stripling  of  a  negro  and,  looking  down  on 
him,  said  contemptuously, 

"Get  right  out  of  here!" 

"I've  said  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of,"  re 
plied  Stephen,  with  a  kind  of  passionate  dig 
nity — not  moving  an  inch.  He  did  not  mean 
to  defy  them,  but  he  would  assert  the  recti 
tude  of  his  intentions. 

In   an   instant  both  men  flung  themselves 


148  Stephen  the  Black 

upon  him  and  pushed  him  through  the  door 
way  in  an  attempt  to  throw  him  not  only  out  of 
the  room,  but  down  the  stairs.  Stephen  vig 
orously  resisted,  in  the  fear  of  being  pitched 
headlong  down  the  steep,  narrow  stairs.  He 
struggled  fiercely,  attempted  to  hold  on  to  the 
knob  of  the  door,  and  failing  that,  clutched 
one  of  his  opponents — he  hardly  knew  which 
one,  but  it  proved  to  be  Aikens. 

" I'll  fix  him! "  cried  the  other,  and  whipped 
out  a  pistol  from  his  trousers  pocket.  Stephen 
heard  the  click  of  the  weapon  close  to  his  ear, 
and  obeyed  an  instinct  of  self-preservation 
— forcibly  though  unintentionally  assisted  by 
Ralph  Aikens,  who  pushed  him  violently — 
he  leaped  to  avoid  the  pistol.  He  landed 
some  distance  down  the  staircase,  after  which 
he  lost  his  balance  and  slid  several  steps  until 
he  reached  the  bottom.  As  he  did  so,  the 
pistol  was  fired  twice  in  succession,  but  the 
shots  missed  him.  He  scrambled  to  his  feet 
and  ran  through  the  hall-way  to  the  street, 
hearing  as  he  ran  the  tramp  of  the  two  men 
descending  the  stairs,  their  loud  laughter  and 


Stephen  the  Black  149 

shouts  of  derision.  It  was  not  in  human  na 
ture  to  stand  still  and  be  shot  at,  and  Stephen 
being  unarmed  and  no  match  in  any  respect 
for  his  pursuers,  did  not  wait  to  see  if  they 
were  following  further,  but  fled  across  the 
street;  wild-eyed  and  hatless,  he  rushed  into 
a  barber  shop,  at  the  open  door  of  which 
lounged  several  colored  men. 

These  men  followed  him  quickly  into  the 
shop;  one  of  them  proved  to  be  the  proprietor, 
another  his  assistant,  while  the  third,  a  tall, 
loose-jointed  creature  with  a  yellow  counte 
nance,  was  a  combination  of  patron,  hanger- 
on  and  general  adviser.  As  all  three  demanded 
an  explanation  of  the  pistol  shots,  Stephen 
stated  hurriedly  that  he  had  gone  to  the  office 
of  Mr.  Aikens  to  transact  some  business,  but 
supposed  that  his  manner  had  given  offence, 
and  on  being  ordered  out  of  the  room,  he  had 
not  left  quickly  as  was  desired.  He  did  not 
go  into  further  particulars  and  was  surprised 
to  find  that  his  explanation,  vague  as  it  was, 
apparently  satisfied  the  three  men. 

"  He's  quicks-Mr,  Aikens,"  said  the  one  who 


150  Stephen  the  Black 

seemed  to  be  the  proprietor,  "but  I  dunno  as 
he  bear  malice  long — leastwise,  he  ain't  de 
kind  to  draw  a  pistol  on  a  unarm'  man— I 
allus  reckoned  he  warn't,"  he  added,  thought 
fully. 

"Must  a  been  t'other  one  who  fired,"  sug 
gested  the  assistant,  a  young  octoroon  with 
curly  black  hair  and  a  handsome  profile. 

"It  was  nothing,"  said  Stephen,  desiring  to 
make  light  of  the  affair — "I  don't  know  why 
they  put  themselves  to  such  trouble  to  get 
me  out  of  that  room.  I'd  have  gone  soon 
enough  anyways  if  they'd  just  given  me  time, 
but  of  course  I  didn't  choose  to  be  thrown  out 
and  have  my  neck  broken." 

The  men  laughed,  and  Stephen  continued  to 
express  his  regret  for  the  whole  occurrence. 

"I  reckin  yer  ain't  out  o'  de  woods  yet,"  ob 
served  the  yellow-faced  one  quietly,  as  shouts 
resounded  in  the  street. 

There  was  a  shuffling  noise  outside  as  of 
many  feet;  hoarse  voices  called  out — "Lynch 
the  nigger!  Fetch  him  out  an'  hang  him!" 
and  the  doorway  was  suddenly  crowded  with 


Stephen  the  Black  151 

at  least  a  dozen  angry-faced,  desperate-looking 
white  men. 

Quick  as  a  flash  the  proprietor  flung  the 
door  shut  and  the  three  men  drew  their  pis 
tols.  The  tallest  one  assuming  the  position  of 
a  leader,  said  in  a  tone  of  mild  remonstrance: 

"Now  what  you  kickin'  up  all  dis  row  for 
nuffin'  for?  Dere  ain't  no  'casion  fo'  mob- 
law  to-day.  Is  yer  gwine  to  hev'  it  jes'  fo' 
sport?" 

"We  want  the  nigger  that's  been  insultin'  a 
white  man — we  want  to  teach  him  to  respect 
his  betters, — we  ain't  goin'  to  let  him  off  with 
out  a  thrashin',  anyways." 

"I've  got  my  wife's  clothes-line  ready  for 
him!"  said  another,  who  had  wound  around 
him  several  yards  of  rope.  He  had  already 
succeeded  in  getting  the  door  partly  open;  he 
stood  bracing  himself  against  the  door-joist, 
with  half  his  body  thrust  through  the  open 
ing. 

Stephen  asked  if  there  were  no  way  of  sum 
moning  the  police. 

"Perhaps,"  he  added,  in  a  hasty  whisper, 


152  Stephen  the  Black 

"they  think  I  fired  those  shots,  and  if  I  just 
explain  how  it  happened " 

"Explain  nuthin',"  answered  his  defender, 
roughly,  giving  Stephen  at  the  same  time  a 
shove  backward,  "  dey  ain't  such  fools;  dey 
ain't  lookin'  fo'  'scuses — dey's  lookin'  fo'  you 
to  hang  yer!" 

It  was  the  disagreeable  truth,  as  he  soon 
realized:  the  uproar  was  increasing  and  the 
threats  of  lynching  growing  louder  and 
louder.  Sticks  and  stones  were  being 
thrown,  but  the  crowd  came  no  nearer,  ow 
ing  to  the  pistols  that  guarded  the  door-way. 

"  What  shall  I  do  ?  "  cried  the  young  teacher 
in  an  agony  of  mortification.  "  I've  brought 
this  trouble  on  you  people  myself,  and  I'm 
not  armed.  Hadn't  I  better  give  myself  up  ?  " 

"Open  dat  closet  door,"  said  the  proprietor, 
turning  his  head  a  little  but  still  keeping  his 
eye  on  the  street  and  speaking  in  a  quick,  soft 
whisper;  "take  my  shavin'  coat  and  straw 
hat,  an'  cup  an'  tray  wid  de  brushes  on  it.  Git 
out  de  back  way  quick — afo'  de  surroun'  de 
house." 


Stephen  the  Black  153 

"  What'll  happen  to  you  if  I  get  off  ?  "  asked 
Stephen,  losing  no  time  in  obeying  these 
directions. 

"Nuthin"  mo's  gwine  to  happen — I  reckon. 
You  kin  notify  de  police  ef  yer  want  ter." 

This  seemed  the  most  sensible  course  to 
pursue,  and  Stephen  making  all  the  haste  he 
could  slipped  into  the  back  room  and  out  into 
a  small  yard  from  which  a  back-gate  led  into 
a  narrow  street.  He  closed  the  gate  quickly 
and  walked  as  calmly  as  possible  down  this 
alley  to  a  larger  street  which  he  turned  into 
with  an  air  of  leisurely  unconcern,  holding  the 
tray  ostentatiously  before  him.  He  saw  from 
a  distance  the  crowd  of  men  around  the  barber 
shop  and  directed  his  steps  another  way.  No 
one  molested  him ;  his  straw  hat  and  profes 
sional  white  coat  seemed  ample  disguise. 
After  he  had  passed  out  of  sight  and  sound  of 
the  mob,  he  inquired  of  a  respectable-looking 
colored  man  for  the  police  station,  and  made 
his  way  there  as  promptly  as  possible,  feeling 
that  every  moment  was  a  matter  of  life  and 
death  to  his  defenders. 


154  Stephen  the  Black 

The  captain  of  police  manifested  no  particu 
lar  concern  on  being  told  that  "a  dangerous 
mob  was  attacking  the  barber-shop,"  but 
promised  curtly  to  send  half  a  dozen  police 
men  to  the  spot.  Stephen  had  the  satisfaction 
of  seeing  them  depart,  and  discreetly  remained 
at  the  station  house  until  dark. 

In  the  evening  he  found  his  way  to  the  back 
gate  of  the  barber-shop,  where  after  knocking 
several  times  he  was  admitted  to  the  sitting- 
room  back  of  the  shop  by  the  tall  mulatto, 
who  was  now  made  known  to  him  as  Lou 
Lemons. 

Stephen  explained  that  he  had  come  to 
thank  his  defenders  and  to  return  the  linen 
coat  and  the  straw  hat.  Lou  received  his 
gratitude  coolly. 

"Dat  war  jes'  a  leetle  fracas, — it  warn't  no 
'count,"  he  said,  indifferently. 

"They  meant  to  kill  me,"  exclaimed  Stephen, 
with  intense  bitterness,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the 
floor, — "  me, — a  stranger — who  had  done  them 
no  harm  in  my  life!  " 

"  Ya-as— dat  so." 


Stephen  the  Black  155 

"I  should  think  that  Mr.  Aikens  and  the 
fellow  with  him  would  a-been  satisfied  with 
throwin'  me  downstairs  and  firin'  pistols  at 
me — without  settin'  the  whole  town  on  to 
murder  me! " 

"Mars'  Aikens,  he  done  set  nobody  on  to 
ye,"  replied  the  mulatto  with  scorn.  "He 
ain't  dat  kind — he  done  trubble  his  head  no 
mo'  'bout  yer  when  he  trowed  yer  out.  Dat 
leetle  lynchin'  bee  warn't  his  affair." 

"  Who  set  them  on  then?"  asked  Stephen. 

"  Dey  don't  want  no  settin'  on — dose  fel 
lows;  sey'se  allus  ready  to  jine  han's  an'  lynch 
a  nigger;  all  dey  wants  is  de  'scuse  o'  hearin' 
dere's  been  a  row  'tween  nigger  and  white 
man." 

Stephen's  head  sank  low  on  his  breast. 

"  Dey  don't  know  no  better,  I  reckon,"  com 
mented  the  proprietor,  good-naturedly,  as  if 
with  a  desire  to  encourage  the  forlorn  stranger, 
"dey  ain't  got  nuffm'  agin  yer  person'ly — 
man;  yer  no  cause  to  feel  so  down-hearted — 
'tain't  yer  pusson,—  it's  only  yer  black  skin!  " 

Stephen,  failing  to  see  the  humor  of  this 


156  Stephen  the  Black 

delicate  distinction,  raised  his  head  to  ask  if 
all  classes  felt  the  same  way  in  that  part  of  the 
country. 

"How  de  big  bugs  feel — de  gran'  upper 
ten — it  ain't  in  de  pow'r  o'  language  to  state 
'zactly;  dey  don't  personify  no  great  love  fo' 
yo'  race,  dat  a  fact — but  day'se  good  to  some 
dat  sarves  'em — ya'as,  dey  is.  Yer  mought 
say  dey  look  down  an'  'spise  de  race,  and  dey 
'predate  de  indiwid-iwid " 

"Individuals  ?  Ah,  I  see,"  said  Stephen,  in 
heavy  dejection. 

"But  dey  keep  dere  moufs  shut  an'  dey 
ain't  aroun'  when  dere's  a  row  kickin'  up, — 
dat's  all  I  know  'bout  dere  feelin's.  An'  my 
feelin'  is  to  keep  dis  yere  six-shooter  in  my 
pocket  and  I  'vise  you  to  do  de  same." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

STEPHEN'S  reflections  on  the  way  home  were 
dismal  enough.  He  could  excuse  the  attack 
made  on  him  by  young  Aikens  as  the  act  of  a 
man  in  a  violent  passion.  The  nature  of  his 
errand  and  the  implication  of  his  speech  might 
easily  have  aroused  the  temper  of  one  who 
had  never  learned  self-restraint,  and  who  read 
moreover  in  his  remarks,  the  sting  of  reproof, 
— and  reproof  from  one  of  an  inferior  race 
was  a  thing  to  be  resented  and  stamped  out 
as  an  insult. 

But  after  he  had  resolved  to  avoid  entrance 
to  a  quarrel  in  a  land  where  every  incautious 
word  seemed  fraught  with  such  dire  conse 
quences,  there  remained  the  heavy  depression 
of  spirits  which  this  insight  into  the  hearts  of 
his  countrymen  now  caused  him.  He  could 
not  forget  that  every  one  of  those  screaming 
fellows  with  murder  in  his  heart  was  a  fellow- 
citizen  with  whom  he  had  once  dreamed  of 

157 


158  Stephen  the  Black 

working  for  the  safety  of  the  commonwealth 
and  the  upbuilding  of  a  new  South.  For 
had  he  not  studied  the  "Science  of  Civiliza 
tion,"  the  "Theory  of  Government,"  and  the 
"Politics  of  a  Christian,"  while  at  the  Sectar 
ian  College  ? 

And  yet  without  asking  who  he  was  or 
what  he  had  done,  these  "fellow-citizens" 
were  ready  to  hunt  him  down  like  a  wild 
beast,  and  hang  him  to  the  nearest  lamp-post! 
The  cruel  injustice  of  it  almost  brought  tears  to 
his  eyes,  while  yet  he  trembled  from  head  to 
foot  in  passionate  anger  at  the  thought  of  the 
indignity  that  had  been  offered  to  him. 

When  he  thought  of  Theresa  whom  he  had 
married  to  protect,  his  depression  became  still 
greater,  A  great  protector  was  he !  A  crea 
ture  whom  every  man's  hand  was  against, — 
every  white  man's, — and  who  was  not  to  be 
permitted  to  open  his  lips  even  in  defence 
of  his  wife!  The  fighting  instincts  of  the 
Anglo-Saxon  raged  suddenly  within  him.  He 
breathed  heavily,  he  clinched  his  hands  and 
longed  for  vengeance.  What  should  he  do  ? 


Stephen  the  Black  159 

Become  a  bravado — armed  to  the  teeth  like 
Lou  Lemons, — and  lose  his  life  in  a  vain  effort 
to  assert  his  manhood  ?  This,  after  all,  was 
the  best  use  he  could  make  of  it — at  least  he 
could  thus  prove  his  manhood! 

Then  the  utter  hopelessness  of  his  position 
overcame  him.  He  knew  that  he  was  power 
less  to  offer  any  kind  of  resistance  that  would 
amount  to  more  than  the  knocking  of  his 
head  against  a  stone  wall  until  his  brains  were 
dashed  out.  He  closed  his  eyes  in  the  ago 
nizing  humility  of  this  thought.  As  he  pressed 
his  forehead  against  the  glass  of  the  car-win 
dow  the  hot  tears  forced  their  way  through 
his  closed  lids.  They  were  the  tears  of  a 
white  man;  so  do  not  despise  them,  reader. 
At  that  moment,  he  would  gladly  have  died 
rather  than  accept  the  alternative  of  submis 
sion  to  his  lot. 

"God  of  my  fathers!"  his  spirit  cried  out, 
"  why  am  I — why  is  my  race — thus  pilloried 
in  the  midst  of  the  white  man's  civilization  ? 
What  have  my  people  done  to  deserve  a  fate 
like  this?" 


160  Stephen  the  Black 

The  iron  mask  of  the  black  race  was  press 
ing  inward;  surely  it  would  crush  the  soul  of 
the  Anglo-Saxon!  Would  it  remain  a  white 
man's  soul?  Could  it  endure  that  pressure 
caused  by  centuries  of  oppression,  scorn  and 
hate  ?  How  long,  O  reader,  does  it  take  for 
environment  to  conquer  heredity  ? 

But  fortunately,  Stephen  knew  nothing 
about  the  white  soul  within  him,  and  he  had 
not,  therefore,  the  paralyzing  fear  of  a  possible 
metamorphosis  within  to  add  to  his  anguish. 
The  passion  and  the  pain  of  the  moment  began 
to  pass  slowly  from  him.  His  training  and 
the  traditions  of  the  race  to  which  he  be 
lieved  he  belonged,  gradually  asserted  their 
power  over  him. 

There  came  into  his  mind  a  picture  of  the 
black  field-hands  among  whom  he  had  chosen 
to  cast  his  lot.  He  saw  them  bowed  down 
with  heavy  toil  and  blinded  by  ignorance  ap 
pealing  to  him  for  aid  with  outstretched,  grop 
ing  hands  and  weary  eyes.  He  turned  to  the 
thought  of  them  with  a  cry  of  love  and  ten 
derness  in  his  heart.  They  were  his  brothers 


Stephen  the  Black  161 

because  they  needed  him,  and  not  because 
their  skins  were  black  like  his.  Among  them 
he  could  work  for  humanity,  for  country,  for 
race,  for  God!  No  man  could  take  from  him 
that  privilege! 

And  so  the  bruised,  imprisoned  white  soul, 
looking  up  through  its  dark  environment  of 
degradation,  fixed  its  gaze  upon  the  eternal 
and  for  the  moment,  found  peace.  Stephen 
had  touched  the  bottom  pit  of  despair,  but  now 
he  rose  on  shining,  lovely  wings — the  wings 
that  have  been  given  to  the  crushed  and 
broken-hearted  of  all  races — and  for  a  brief 
interval,  he  soared  above  his  misery. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

'WHEN  Wesley  Anderson  heard  of  Stephen's 
miserable  adventure  in  the  town  of  Perryville, 
he  advised  him  to  confide  his  experiences  only 
to  a  select  few,  as  it  was  not  desirable  that  the 
story  should  be  known  in  the  district. 

Lemuel's  return  the  next  morning  relieved 
the  minds  of  the  two  men  as  to  Theresa's 
safety,  and  his  account  of  their  reception  at 
the  wonderful  school  was  graphic  and  satis 
factory.  In  the  same  week  Stephen  closed 
his  school  term  and  during  the  vacation  he 
helped  Wesley  by  supplying  Theresa's  place 
in  the  field,  for  the  busy  days  were  now  draw 
ing  near,  and  every  adult  member  of  every 
colored  household  was  needed  to  hoe,  harrow, 
and  thin  out  the  too  luxuriant  growth  of  the 
cotton  plant  as  it  approached  its  prime. 

He  found  time,  however,  to  devote  a  few 
days  of  steady  work  to  the  windows  of  the 
building,  and  it  was  a  proud  moment  for  the 

162 


Stephen  the  Black  163 

congregation  when  they  assembled  within  a 
rain-proof  edifice,  and  beheld  the  clear,  warm 
sunshine  streaming  through  the  panes  of  glass 
which  now  marked  the  little  church  from  all 
others  of  its  kind.  In  their  enjoyment  of  the 
luxury,  they  sat  with  every  window  tightly 
closed  until  the  atmosphere  became  so  stilling 
that  Stephen  insisted  on  pushing  up  every 
sash,  which  revealing  a  new  virtue  in  the  me 
chanism,  distracted  the  minds  of  the  audience 
from  any  further  contemplation  of  the  won 
ders  of  the  Golden  City,  toward  which  Brother 
Simpson  had  been  patiently  directing  their  at 
tention  for  the  last  three-quarters  of  an  hour. 

When  the  school  opened  again  in  July, 
Stephen  found  to  his  disappointment  that  only 
the  very  young  children  were  able  to  attend; 
the  older  ones  were  now  in  the  field  from 
early  dawn  until  seven  o'clock  at  night.  Be 
tween  twelve  and  three  the  heat  was  too  in 
tense  for  any  creature  to  bear  without  shelter, 
and  it  was  customary  for  the  laborers  to  stop 
work  during  those  hours.  Some  spent  this 
interval  in  sleep  under  the  shade  of  a  tree,  but 


164  Stephen  the  Black 

many  returned  to  the  cabins  and  rested  there 
after  the  midday  meal. 

Stephen  made  an  effort  to  persuade  the 
older  boys  and  girls  to  spend  this  interval  of 
rest  in  his  schoolroom.  A  few  came  and 
seemed  glad  of  the  privilege,  but  several  of 
them  soon  notified  him  that  the  innovation  was 
not  approved  by  the  overseer  who  had  charge 
of  the  fields,  and  that  they  could  come  no 
more.  As  the  month  wore  away,  even  the 
younger  children  dropped  off,  and  Stephen 
saw  them  afterward  picking  cotton  by  the 
side  of  their  parents.  He  was  glad  when  the 
time  came  to  close  his  school. 

But  now  came  a  new  trouble.  For  several 
weeks,  rumors  had  reached  his  ears  of  dis 
satisfaction  among  the  colored  people  who 
lived  in  the  eastern  part  of  the  district.  These 
people  formed  a  little  settlement  of  their  own 
and  had  been  holding  services  in  a  log-cabin 
near  Thomas'  Mills  on  the  creek.  They 
looked  with  disfavor  on  Brother  Simpson's 
style  of  preaching  and  had  selected  a  Baptist 
clergyman  to  minister  to  their  spiritual  needs. 


Stephen  the  Black  165 

They  claimed  to  receive  more  edification  from 
one  of  his  sermons  than  from  two  of  Brother 
Simpson's. 

But  after  the  fame  of  Brother  Simpson's 
glass  windows  had  spread  over  the  neighbor 
hood,  the  primitiveness  of  their  own  house  of 
worship  cut  deep  into  their  souls  and  they 
stirred  themselves  to  secure  some  compensat 
ing  advantage. 

They  decided  that  four  miles  was  too  far  for 
their  children  to  walk  to  school,  and  petitioned 
the  county  superintendent  to  appoint  a  sepa 
rate  teacher  for  the  eastern  half  of  the  district. 

Stephen  heard  of  this  movement  without 
alarm,  and  did  not  blame  them  for  wanting 
a  school  near  at  hand.  He  did  not  believe, 
however,  that  the  county  authorities  would 
grant  the  request,  and  troubled  himself  very 
little  about  it. 

His  consternation  was  great  one  day,  when 
he  received  from  the  superintendent  a  letter 
enclosing  just  half  of  the  month's  salary  with 
a  statement  that  the  balance  of  the  appropria 
tion  would  be  withheld  to  pay  for  a  Septem- 


166  Stephen  the  Black 

her  term  of  the  new  school  to  be  opened  at 
Thomas'  Mills. 

Stephen  wrote  back  protesting  against  such 
a  step.  It  would  be  impossible,  he  said,  to 
maintain  a  proper  school  on  such  a  salary. 
He  had  already  spent  a  large  share  of  his 
wages  on  furnishing  his  own  school  and  what 
kind  of  a  teacher  could  they  engage  on  half  of 
his  meagre  salary  ? 

The  county  superintendent  replied  that  the 
Thomas'  Mills  people  were  determined  to 
have  their  separate  school,  and  had,  he  was 
informed,  withheld  their  children  from  Ste 
phen's  school  during  the  month  of  July  because 
of  the  distance.  A  full  month's  salary  was 
hardly  due  a  teacher  who  had  not  taught 
more  than  half  of  his  scholars  during  that 
time,— and  in  his  opinion,  the  money  would 
be  better  expended  in  the  way  proposed. 

Stephen  held  many  consultations  with  the 
more  intelligent  men  on  the  Aikens'  planta 
tion,  and  went  with  them  to  reason  with  the 
Thomas'  Mills  people.  But  arguments  and 
persuasions  were  of  no  avail.  They  shook 


Stephen  the  Black  167 

their  heads  and  maintained  stoutly  that  the 
school  was  needed;  as  the  Methodists  had  ob 
tained  school  privileges  for  themselves,  they 
should  not  try  to  prevent  the  Baptists  from 
following  their  example. 

The  custom  of  holding  school  in  church 
buildings  had  its  distinct  disadvantages,  as 
Stephen  now  discovered.  With  the  conniv 
ance  of  the  county  superintendent,  the  educa 
tion  of  the  poor  people  was  being  sacrificed  to 
the  jealousies  of  rival  sects;  and  the  ignorant 
field-hands,  in  their  effort  to  obtain  equal  rec 
ognition  for  their  special  forms  of  worship 
were  rapidly  undermining  the  scanty  facilities 
for  education  that  already  existed. 

While  Stephen  worked  in  the  cotton-field 
he  pondered  and  puzzled  over  this  subject  and 
held  many  discussions  with  Wesley  and  others 
as  they  rested  in  the  shade  during  the  intoler 
able  heat  of  midday. 

The  fields  were  now  white  with  ripe  cotton 
and  the  scene  every  morning  and  afternoon 
was  one  of  busy  activity,  but  no  language  can 
do  justice  to  the  effect  of  the  intense  heat  on 


168  Stephen  the  Black 

the  atmosphere.  As  Stephen  looked  across 
the  level  acres  from  his  retreat  under  the  trees, 
the  heat  itself  seemed  to  become  a  visible  sub 
stance  that  danced  on  waves  of  vibrating  ether 
across  the  great  prairie  of  white  cotton. 

It  seemed  hardly  worth  while  to  blister  one's 
back  and  arms  and  lose  one's  whole  skin  once 
a  month  for  the  wretched  pittance  of  forty 
cents  a  day,  out  of  which  the  cotton  picker  is 
expected  to  furnish  his  own  meals  and  lodg 
ing,  but  this  was  the  usual  rate  of  wages  in 
that  neighborhood  and  it  was  now  too  late  for 
Stephen  to  secure  employment  in  the  North. 
He  toiled  on  doggedly  and  found  a  grim  sat 
isfaction  in  sharing  the  lot  of  his  comrades 
in  every  particular.  Sometimes  they  sang 
plantation  songs,  many  of  which  were  new  to 
the  Virginian.  They  seemed  to  him  to  pos 
sess  a  far  greater  plaintiveness  than  any  he 
had  heard  at  home. 

A  great  sadness  took  possession  of  him, 
born  of  the  pity  which  he  felt  in  his  heart  for 
his  own  people.  How  far  away  they  seemed 
from  the  civilization  which  lay  all  around  them! 


Stephen  the  Black  169 

How  appealing  was  their  attitude  toward  the 
great  nation  in  the  midst  of  which  they  dwelt 
in  such  obscure,  poverty-stricken  isolation! 
Was  there  anything  like  it  in  all  history  ?  And 
he  who  had  come  down  among  them  so  full 
of  high  missionary  zeal,  had  now  fallen  into 
their  ranks  as  a  day-laborer,  and  was  unable 
to  raise  his  head  above  the  low  level  of  the 
underpaid  labor  markets  of  the  South. 

Again  he  thought  of  Theresa  and  of  his  am 
bition  for  her  future.  In  the  depths  of  his 
heart  there  lay  undisturbed  by  the  fierce 
struggle  with  ignorance  and  poverty,  the  vision 
of  a  home  that  was  some  day  to  be  created  for 
that  daughter  of  two  races.  Within  its  sanc 
tity  she  would  never  miss  the  chivalry  that  the 
outside  world  denied  her.  Like  a  princess  in 
a  lonely  tower  she  would  remain  safe  from 
the  lawless  admiration  of  the  white  man's 
eyes  and  the  brutality  of  his  laws.  Never 
should  she  toil  in  the  field  as  the  daughter  of 
an  inferior  race!  The  spindle  and  the  distaff 
only  should  she  hold  in  her  hand.  Like  the 
virtuous  woman  "whose  price  is  far  above 


ijo  Stephen  the  Black 

rubies"  she  might  seek  wool  and  flax — yes, 
but  never  cotton, — and  it  was  a  proof  of  the 
discriminating  judgment  of  Solomon  that  he 
disdained  all  mention  of  the  great  fabric  which 
had  transferred  the  toil  of  millions  of  women 
in  America  from  the  home  to  the  field. 

As  Stephen  worked  on  day  by  day  by  the 
side  of  these  black  women,  he  realized  how 
heavily  the  burdens  of  race  lay  upon  them. 
For  generations  they  had  toiled  thus  until  their 
chests  were  hollow,  their  backs  bent,  their 
eyes  sunken  with  pain  and  weariness.  These 
housewives  had  no  canned  or  dried  vegetables, 
fruits,  pickles,  or  preserves  to  exhibit  proudly 
to  the  chance  visitor.  They  were  profoundly 
ignorant  of  all  the  arts  and  mysteries  of  the 
household.  They  had  neither  time  nor  oppor 
tunity  to  learn  them.  Surely  the  monotonous 
grinding  factory  wheel  of  the  North  was  not 
as  remorseless  a  taskmaster  as  this  gay,  flow 
ering  cotton  plant  of  the  South.  How  neces 
sary  it  was,  therefore, — how  holy  and  beautiful 
it  would  be — to  paint  before  their  eyes  the  re 
ality  of  those  heavenly  ideals  of  domestic  life 


Stephen  the  Black  171 

which  he  beheld  whenever  he  looked  into  his 
heart  and  thought  of  Theresa. 

By  October  the  work  began  to  lighten,  the 
days  grew  shorter,  and  the  sun's  rays  became 
less  oppressive.  The  men  were  looking  for 
ward  to  a  division  of  the  profits  after  the  cot 
ton  should  be  sold  in  November.  They  had 
worked  hard  and  it  was  a  good  crop. 

A  great  idea  came  into  Stephen's  head,  and 
he  communicated  it  to  Wesley  and  to  several 
others.  They  resolved  to  call  a  meeting  that 
should  include  the  people  of  the  whole  school 
district  and  lay  the  idea  before  them.  Notices 
were  sent  out  by  word  of  mouth  to  the  large 
majority  who  could  not  read,  and  a  pressing 
invitation  was  extended  to  the  Thomas'  Mills 
people.  Only  a  few  came  from  that  settle 
ment,  but  the  whole  number  that  assembled 
in  the  schoolhouse  was  large,  and  they  waited 
in  expectant  silence  for  Stephen's  address. 

"The  county  superintendent  has  bitten  off 
half  our  school  fund," — explained  Stephen, 
"and  only  an  ignoramus  can  be  hired  by 
either  half,  But  I  have  come  here  to  teach  in 


172  Stephen  the  Black 

this  community,  and  if  you  want  me  I  am 
going  to  stay  right  here  and  keep  this  school 
going.  But  we  must  separate  the  school  from 
the  church.  I  reckon  God  can  put  up  with 
our  foolish  controversies  over  Himself.  He 
can  forgive  our  fancies  about  the  grand  things 
that  only  angels  know  the  truth  of.  We  can 
afford  to  differ  about  religion,  but  when  it 
comes  to  the  schools,  we've  got  to  pull  to 
gether  or  go  under.  Now  what  we  want  is  a 
school  that  is  separate  and  distinct  from  the 
church,  so  the  Baptists  won't  pull  one  way 
and  the  Methodists  another.  We  want  to 
build  it  ourselves  and  run  it  ourselves.  Here's 
the  school — the  academy — we're  going  to  have 
with  or  without  the  state's  help,"  and  Stephen 
drew  on  the  blackboard  a  rough  diagram  of  a 
square  building,  and  marked  the  doors  and 
windows  on  it. 

A  murmur  of  enthusiasm  ran  through  the 
audience.  The  hopeful,  emotional  tempera 
ment  of  the  colored  people  was  easily  stirred, 
and  when  Stephen  told  them  the  first  thing 
they  wanted  was  land  on  which  to  build  the 


Stephen  the  Black  173 

new  school,  a  middle-aged  negro  who  lived 
in  the  vicinity  of  Thomas'  Mills  and  was 
known  to  be  an  exceedingly  thrifty  fellow, 
announced  that  he  owned  an  acre  of  ground 
near  a  small  woods  and  the  school  could  have 
this  little  piece  of  ground  to  build  on.  This 
offer  was  hailed  with  delight,  and  Stephen 
with  beaming  eyes  called  for  volunteers  to  do 
the  work  of  carpenters  and  builders  under  his 
direction. 

One  after  another  of  the  blacks  arose  and 
pledged  himself  to  give  so  many  days  and 
hours  of  labor.  Stephen,  figuring  rapidly, 
reckoned  that  two  months  of  solid  labor  had 
been  pledged,  and  with  this  he  thought  they 
could  proceed.  The  meeting  broke  up  amid 
smiles  of  profound  self-satisfaction  and  joy. 


CHAPTER  XV 

HEAVY  wagon-loads  of  baled  cotton  were 
now  to  be  seen  on  the  road  every  day,  on  their 
way  to  the  station,  and  the  fields  were  bare 
except  for  dry  stalks  and  withered  leaves. 

The  day  of  settlement  was  over  on  the 
Aikens'  plantation,  and  Wesley  Anderson  sat 
in  his  little  cabin  discussing  with  Stephen  the 
mystery  of  his  empty  pockets.  The  cotton  he 
had  raised  had  been  sold  by  his  landlord,  who 
after  deducting  the  expenses  of  living,  the 
price  of  the  ox,  and  the  interest  of  his  mort 
gage,  returned  to  him  a  statement  in  which  it 
appeared  that  Wesley  was  still  in  arrears  for 
the  interest  that  had  been  accumulating  on  the 
ox.  He  handed  the  statement  to  Stephen, 
who  ran  his  eye  over  it. 

"Here's  a  mistake — you're  charged  interest 
on  Abraham  from  January  ist,  and  you  didn't 
get  him  until  April — and  look  here,  these 

174 


Stephen  the  Black  175 

groceries  and  salt  pork  were  not  all  bought  in 
January, — why  man,  you  got  them  month  by 
month,  as  you  needed  them." 

"Dat's  correc',  perfessor,"  replied  Wesley, 
calmly,  "  de  colonel  can't  nebber  break  de 
year  wid  his  accounts.  De  interest  run  allus 
f'om  year  to  year;  dat's  de  business-like  way. 
Dere  ain't  no  mistake  dere.  I  'spec'  we's 
done  eat  up  all  de  profit,  dat's  de  truff;  dat 
boy  Lemuel,  he's  pow'rful  big  eater,  he  is, — 
kin  mos'  eat  whole  acre  o'  'taters  hisself ! " 

"I  reckon  he  ain't  eat  up  that  ox, — usury's 
done  that! "  cried  Stephen,  a  hot  wave  of  in 
dignation  sweeping  him  into  forms  of  speech 
that  were  perilously  below  the  standard  of  his 
graduating  days, — a  standard  maintained  so 
far  at  the  cost  of  an  incessant  struggle  with 
an  old  Adam  of  early  associations.  He  rose 
quickly  and  paced  up  and  down  the  floor  of 
the  cabin  muttering  to  himself. 

Wesley  caught  the  last  muttered  word  and 
looked  up  in  his  face  appealingly. 

"My  brudder,  it  ain't  robbery,  as  I  looks  at 
it,"  he  said,  in  his  low,  gentle  voice.  "We's 


176  Stephen  the  Black 

got  to  pay  off  somehow  de  cost  o'  our  free 
dom, — we's  got  to  pay  somehow  de  cost  o' 
dem  battles.  Dey  was  fought  fo'  us  an'  we's 
got  de  benefit, — but  some  day,  perfessor,  we 
'uns  '11  git  de  cost  o'  dat  wah  paid  off  cent  fo' 
cent  an'  dollar  fo'  dollar, — an'  den  we'll  rise 
up  an'  take  our  place  fo'  de  nation, — but  I 
reckon  it'll  jine  on  close  to  forty  years  afore 
dat  gran'  settlement  be  made, — cent  fo'  cent, 
an'  dollar  fo'  dollar!"  He  gazed  musingly 
into  the  fireplace,  his  old  eyes  luminous  with 
prophetic  insight. 

"You  know  then, — "  cried  Stephen,  stop 
ping  and  laying  his  hand  on  the  elder  negro's 
shoulder,  "  you  know  that  you're  being  swin 
dled  out  of  your  just  earnings?"  His  com 
panion  nodded. 

"We  knows  it,  perfessor, — an'  we  knows 
it's  'cause  o'  our  ig'rance.  An'  we  knows  de 
han'  o'  de  Lord's  a-leadin'  us  out  o'  dis  ig' 
rance, — an'  He's  a  keepin'  us  fo'  some  gran' 
purpose  o'  His'n.  Dat's  my  b'lief,  perfessor, 
— yer  done  wrong  ter  try  to  shake  dat  b'lief  o' 
mine — I  ain't  laid  it  ag'in  yer  hard,  fo'  I  likes 


Stephen  the  Black  177 

yer  mightily;  I  loves  de  soun'  o'  yer  voice,  an' 
de  gleam  o'  'casional  lightnin'  in  yer  eye. 
Yo's  soun'  at  heart,  boy,  but  yer  ain't  got  de 
eye  o'  faith,  fo'  yer  own  people.  It's  de  eye 
o'  faith  dat  lights  up  times  like  dese,  when 
yer  heart's  mos'  broke  wid  disapp'intment  an' 
mis'ry.  Dere's  nuffm'  like  de  eye  o'  faith, 
perfessor,  when  yo's  cornsiderin'  de  prospects 
o'  de  colored  folks!" 

Stephen  went  on  pacing  the  floor;  with 
violent  gestures  and  furious  exclamations,  he 
denounced  the  rapacity  of  southern  land  own 
ers  and  the  futility  of  his  own  efforts  to  raise 
the  standards  of  life  under  such  oppressive 
conditions.  The  rebellious  spirit  of  his  revo 
lutionary  ancestors  surged  through  him;  their 
hatred  of  injustice  swelled  his  heart  until  he 
felt  as  if  it  would  burst.  But  suddenly,  he 
stopped  short  with  his  hand  on  his  black, 
woolly  head — he  saw  himself  as  a  naked, 
painted  savage,  dashing  with  uplifted  spear 
through  African  jungles. — Ah!  he  must  not 
forget  that  dreadful  picture  of  his  origin !  He 
must  not  forget  the  savage  within  him, — civi- 


i;8  Stephen  the  Black 

lization  had  not  yet  tamed  the  beast,  appar 
ently! 

In  passionate  contrition,  Stephen  dropped 
into  a  chair  and  bowed  his  head  upon  his 
hands.  He  prayed  for  patience,  gentleness, 
wisdom — and  the  taming  of  the  African  an 
cestor  who  now  leered  upon  him  from  the 
chancel  of  his  thoughts  like  some  hideous 
idol.  The  thought  of  the  naked  fellow  always 
brought  humiliation.  It  caused  him  at  once 
to  abandon  anger  for  sharp,  rational  think 
ing. 

He  remembered  that  ignorance  was  at  the 
bottom  of  the  whole  trouble,  and  it  was  ig 
norance  he  had  come  to  wrestle  with  and  not 
the  injustice  of  the  southerner  to  his  former 
slave.  If  he  permitted  his  mind  to  dwell  on 
that  gloomy  picture  his  usefulness  he  knew 
was  gone  forever.  With  determination  he  put 
the  subject  out  of  his  thoughts  and  devoted 
himself  with  more  energy  than  ever  to  the 
possibilities  of  building  up  a  new  school. 

The  following  week,  Stephen  inspected  the 
piece  of  ground  that  had  been  offered,  and 


Stephen  the  Black  179 

held  another  meeting  to  bring  the  question 
again  before  the  people. 

The  time  had  come,  he  thought,  to  begin 
work,  and  he  broached  the  subject  to  several 
who  had  been  most  enthusiastic  in  their 
promises  of  help.  To  his  sorrow,  he  found 
that  their  enthusiasm  had  waned.  The  poor 
fellows  had  not  yet  rallied  from  the  grief 
caused  by  their  broken  hopes  over  the  pro 
ceeds  of  the  cotton  crop.  When  Stephen 
urged  them  to  think  of  the  future  of  their 
children  they  paused  and  pressed  the  palms 
of  their  hands  together  in  an  attitude  that  was 
meant  to  suggest  concentration  of  thought, — 
but  it  seemed  to  indicate  rather  their  own 
peculiar  helplessness, — 

"  Dat's  de  truff,  perfessor, — we'd  had  ought 
to  be  considerin'  all  dem  Vantages  you's  been 
p'intin'  out — but,  sah,  our  han's  is  tied,  our 
han's  is  tied!" 

Christmas  came  and  there  was  plenty  of 
leisure;  it  seemed  impossible,  however,  to 
get  any  one  just  then  to  take  life  seriously, 
but  Stephen  regarded  it  so  seriously  himself 


i8o  Stephen  the  Black 

that  he  started  out  one  day  alone,  armed  with 
a  pick-axe,  and  began  to  dig  the  foundation 
of  his  new  schoolhouse. 

He  struck  his  axe  into  the  ground  and 
turned  up  the  fresh  sod  along  the  line  he 
had  marked  for  the  foundations  of  his  school. 
He  worked  with  a  will,  singing  old  plantation 
songs  as  he  swung  the  pick  again  and  again 
into  the  earth.  After  resting  a  few  moments, 
he  went  at  it  again  with  breathless  energy, 
and  being  unable  to  hold  his  voice  at  singing 
pitch  all  the  while,  he  accomplished  his  pur 
pose  by  a  succession  of  shouts  and  yells, 
which  speedily  brought  an  astonished  pedes 
trian  to  the  spot. 

The  first  thought  of  the  newcomer  was 
that  the  "  Perfessor "  had  gone  mad.  Stephen 
stopping  to  wipe  his  forehead  explained  pant- 
ingly  that  he  had  begun  to  dig  the  foundations 
of  the  new  schoolhouse.  The  neighbor  eyed 
him  in  open-mouthed  stupefaction. 

" Ain't  yer  got  a  pick  at  home?"  asked 
Stephen,  in  piercing  accents,  content  to  sacri 
fice  syntax  for  incisiveness,  in  his  happy  con- 


Stephen  the  Black  181 

sciousness  of  the  better  English  that  was 
stored  away  with  his  Sunday  clothes.  He 
was  confident  that  when  it  was  wanted,  it 
would  come  forth  all  the  better  perhaps  for 
being  less  worn.  To  his  mind,  the  genius  of 
the  English  language  sanctioned  these  violent 
contrasts  between  academic  and  colloquial 
speech,  whenever  an  idea  was  to  be  driven 
quickly  and  forcibly  into  a  dull  understand 
ing. 

The  newcomer  hastened  in  search  of  the 
implements,  returning  speedily  with  both  axe 
and  shovel.  He  helped  Stephen  all  the  after 
noon,  and  the  next  morning,  he  brought  a 
friend  with  him  who  also  worked  with  a  will. 
After  that  there  was  no  scarcity  of  workers. 
Every  man  on  the  Aikens'  plantation  donated 
his  quota  of  labor.  Many  others  who  lived  on 
adjoining  farms,  did  the  same  and  Stephen 
opened  his  little  district  school  the  following 
Monday  in  the  happy  consciousness  that  a  new 
building  was  actually  under  way,  and  that  the 
whole  neighborhood  was  again  in  a  ferment 
of  enthusiasm  over  the  project. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

IT  was  now  nearly  two  years  since  Theresa 
had  entered  the  great  colored  school. 

She  had  become  a  hard  student  and  was 
looking  forward  to  becoming  a  teacher.  Her 
speech  had  originally  been  modeled  after  the 
dialect  of  the  ignorant  whites  in  preference  to 
that  of  the  field  negroes,  but  now  her  quick, 
imitative  faculty, — an  individual  as  well  as  a 
racial  gift — fashioned  it  after  a  higher  stand 
ard.  Her  dread  of  the  "  nigger  school"  had 
vanished  on  meeting  many  teachers  and  pupils 
in  the  establishment  as  fair  as  herself,— nay, 
some  of  them  were  fairer.  She  had  become  a 
favorite  with  a  teacher  known  as  "Miss  Isa 
bel,"  a  handsome  young  Virginian,  in  whose 
features  and  coloring  there  was  not  the  slight 
est  appearance  of  negro  blood.  Isabel's  hair 
was  a  bright  chestnut,  her  eyes  were  dark 
blue,  her  complexion  was  that  of  an  English 
woman.  Nevertheless,  she  was  a  daughter  of 
182 


Stephen  the  Black  183 

the  inferior  race  and  all  her  associations  were 
with  the  dusky  children  of  America.  Theresa 
asked  her  once  if  she  would  not  prefer  to  live 
among  the  whites,  and  her  reply  was  given 
with  eyes  flashing: 

"  Why  should  I  care  for  the  people  that  dis 
own  me?  They  have  cast  me  out,  and  my 
loyalty  belongs  to  those  who  have  taken  me 
under  their  protection.  Theresa,  white  peo 
ple  have  heaped  dishonor  on  us — their  chil 
dren!  Live  among  them  ?  Never  while  there 
is  a  black  man's  roof  to  shelter  me!  I  work 
for  the  advancement  of  this  race  not  out  of 
gratitude  only— though  I  owe  them  much — 
but  that  I  may  some  day  avenge  my  own 
wrongs  and  all  our  wrongs !  " 

"Will  you  marry  a  black  man,  some  day, 
Miss  Isabel?"  asked  Theresa,  in  a  whisper, 
laying  her  hand  on  the  sleeve  of  the  elder 
woman. 

"No,"  replied  the  teacher,  shortly,  drawing 
a  quick  breath,  "I  shall  never  marry  any  one, 
child, — I  came  into  this  world  to  teach,  not 
to  marry." 


184  Stephen  the  Black 

Theresa  thought  of  her  own  marriage  which 
was  known  only  to  the  principal  of  the 
school. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  it  said,"  she  whispered, 
"  that  I  have — a  husband  ?  " 

Isabel  shook  her  head,  laying  her  hand  play 
fully  on  the  girl's  scarlet  cheek. 

"I  have.  He's  black,  Miss  Isabel."  The 
piteous  expression  in  Theresa's  eyes  caused 
Isabel  to  clasp  the  girl's  hand  in  hers. 

"Black— really?" 

"Brown,  I  think — no,  he's  black  in  sum 
mer,"  whispered  Theresa  between  her  fin 
gers,  for  she  had  suddenly  buried  her  face  in 
both  hands.  Isabel  longed  to  know  more,  so, 
after  a  little  hesitation,  Theresa  related  the 
whole  story  of  her  secret  interviews  with 
her  white  hero,  his  base  proposition,  her  inter 
cepted  flight  to  join  him,  and  her  unexpected 
marriage  with  the  negro  teacher  on  the  plan 
tation. 

Isabel  listened  breathlessly. 

"Couldn't  I  have  been  saved  without  marry 
ing  some  one  else?"  cried  Theresa,  looking 


Stephen  the  Black  185 

up  with  wide-open  eyes  and  another  deep 
blush,  "why  did  I  have  to  marry  Stephen 
Wells  ?  " 

Isabel  looked  at  her  in  astonishment.  "  Are 
you  Stephen  Wells'  wife?  I  don't  pity  you 
one  bit.  He's  good,  Theresa,  and  he's  not  so 
very  black  either.  Come,  let  me  congratulate 
you!"  she  cried,  laughing,  and  looking  into 
Theresa's  downcast  face. 

"I  don't  care  what  he's  like,"  muttered 
Theresa,  looking  scornful  and  distressed. 
"  He  pays  my  board,  but  I  am  going  to  earn 
my  way  through  school  now — I  can  work  at 
dressmaking,  and  he  shall  pay  no  more  for 
me!  I  don't  understand,"  she  went  on, 
impetuously,  "why  he  insisted  on  my  marry 
ing  him.  I  don't  think  he  did  right  to  per 
suade  me  to  marry  him  in  such  a  hurry,  do 
you  ?" 

Isabel  took  thought  for  a  moment. 

"  From  what  I  know  of  Stephen,"  she  said, 
gravely,  "I  feel  sure  that  he  acted  from  the 
best  of  motives.  I  hear  that  he's  working 
himself  to  death  over  there  and  has  wrought 


i86  Stephen  the  Black 

a  great  change  in  your  neighborhood.  He's 
full  of  self-sacrifice." 

"Ah!  Self-sacrifice!"  repeated  Theresa,  in 
a  strange  tone.  "Why — do  you  think — " 
She  flung  herself  forward  into  Isabel's  lap 
with  a  sob.  The  teacher  patted  her  head 
tenderly  and  kissed  her. 

She  continued  to  caress  and  soothe  her  and 
to  call  her  a  silly  child  until  the  clock  striking 
nine,  announced  that  it  was  time  to  prepare 
for  bed.  With  a  parting  kiss  she  hurried  the 
little  wedded  maid  away  to  her  own  apart 
ments,  and  sat  down  with  a  sigh  to  look  over 
a  pile  of  school  exercises. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

NOT  many  weeks  afterward  the  name  of  a 
visitor  was  brought  to  Theresa  from  the  office. 
It  was  that  of  Ralph  Aikens.  She  told  Isabel 
whose  eyes  glowed  with  anger. 

"Well,"  she  asked,  coldly,  "are  you  going 
to  see  him  ?  " 

"I  must,"  was  Theresa's  half  stifled  re 
sponse. 

Isabel  looked  at  the  burning  cheeks  and 
bright  eyes  of  the  girl. 

"  Let  me  go  with  you,"  she  cried,  impul 
sively,  but  Theresa  shook  her  head  proudly, 
and  walked  out  of  the  schoolroom  alone  into 
the  small  reception  parlor,  where  Ralph  sat 
gazing  eagerly  at  the  half  open  doorway. 

She  entered  slowly  with  her  eyes  fixed  on 
the  floor.  Ralph  drew  a  chair  opposite  to  his 
own  and  begged  her  in  a  subdued  voice  to  be 
seated. 

Her  dread  of  his  brilliant,  questioning  eyes 

187 


i88  Stephen  the  Black 

drove  the  color  quickly  from  her  cheek,  but 
she  seated  herself  as  requested. 

He  cast  toward  her  a  look  of  eloquent  ap 
peal—and  he  did  well  to  hang  his  head 
afterward  without  a  word  of  greeting.  He 
knew  that  every  sword's  point  in  the  girl's 
nature  was  turned  against  him  at  that  mo 
ment,  but  from  long  experience  with  the  sex, 
he  knew  also  when  to  fight  and  when  to 
throw  down  his  weapons.  Theresa  eyed  him 
with  her  usual  seriousness,  waiting  for  him  to 
speak.  He  said  at  last, 

"You  did  well  to  fly  from  me,  Theresa, 
when  you  understood — what  I  was  capable 
of." 

The  girl's  heart  beat  wildly  as  Ralph  uttered 
this  brief  sentence.  Quickly  leaving  her  out 
posts  of  defence,  all  her  scorn  was  suddenly 
lost  in  a  self-reproachful  whisper, 

"  No.  I  should  have  known  better,— it  was 
my  foolish  vanity, — thinking  myself  white!  " 

"It  was  your  wonderful  innocence, — don't 
blame  yourself  for  that—"  cried  Ralph,  greatly 
pleased  with  her  self-accusing  tones.  "To 


Stephen  the  Black  189 

me  it  was  a  beautiful  dream  with  a  rude 
awakening, — do  you  think  me  utterly  without 
conscience  or  heart?" 

Theresa  had  schooled  herself  exactly  to  this 
conclusion,  and  she  now  looked  toward  the 
open  doorway  as  if  seeking  an  escape  from 
the  question. 

"I  think  you  were  brought  up  without  a 
conscience  toward — such  as  me,"  she  said 
finally  in  a  low  voice. 

"Toward  such  as  you!"  he  repeated,  with 
joyous  irrelevance.  "  There  is  not  another  like 
you  in  the  world!  You  are  unique,  Theresa! " 

The  girl  sighed  as  she  summed  up  quaintly 
from  her  own  experience,  the  steps  of  an  orig 
inal  and  sorrowful  deduction : 

"That  is  what  turns  a  woman's  head  and 
leads  her  into  folly — it  is  flattery." 

"So  that's  what  they  teach  you  in  this  in 
stitution,  is  it?" 

"No, — but— they've  taught  me  to  know  that 
I'm  colored." 

"Oh, — they  are  giving  you  a  high  standard 
to  begin  with !  They're  jealous  of  your  white- 


190  Stephen  the  Black 

ness,  your  sweet  looks;  they  want  to  bring 
you  down  to  their  own  low  level,  but  that  they 
can  never  do.  Listen  to  me.  You  sweet 
child,  this  school  is  no  place  for  you;  I  have 
come  here  to  propose  a  better  plan.  I  hope 
you  will  accept  it  from  me  as  a  sort  of  atone 
ment — will  you  ?  " 

«I_    What?" 

"Don't  look  so  frightened!  Am  I  always 
to  be  the  villain  in  the  play,— do  you  look 
upon  me  still  as  a  villain  ?" 

"  You  did  do  wrong — you  tried  to  make  me 
do  wrong!"  She  turned  restlessly  on  her 
chair,  longing  to  escape  this  strange  form  of 
persecution.  Her  color  came  and  went.  But 
Ralph  was  enjoying  the  situation,  and  had  no 
idea  of  letting  her  escape  from  it. 

"I  did  do  wrong,  and  I  tried  to  make  you 
do  wrong,  as  you  say,  and  failed — thank 
heaven, — but  now  that  I  confess  my  sin,  is 
there  no  forgiveness  for  me  ?  " 

"  Forgiveness  ?"  repeated  the  girl,  in  a  soft 
ened  tone,  "I  never  thought— yes — we  must 
forgive  our  enemies." 


Stephen  the  Black  191 

"I  am  my  own  worst  enemy,  I  know 
that — "  he  added,  with  a  singular  smile 
and  a  peculiar  shadow  in  his  eyes, — "but  I 
don't  exist  for  your  injury  any  more.  I  am 
seeking  your  good  at  the  present  moment. 
Listen;  this  is  my  plan:  I  want  to  send  you  to 
a  young  ladies'  boarding-school  in  the  North, 
where  you  will  be  highly  educated  with  white 
girls.  You  can  stay  there  until  you  are  fully 
equipped  to  teach  anything  you  want, — music, 
singing,  painting,  dancing — whatever  you  care 
most  to  learn.  And  I  shall  not  trouble  you 
with  my  presence.  You  can  accept  it  without 
any  fear  of  me,  Theresa.  It  will  give  me 
great  happiness  to  do  this  for  you.  Say  that 
you  will  go!" 

"I  can't  say  it,"  cried  Theresa,  the  tears 
rushing  suddenly  to  her  eyes.  '  *  I  belong  here — 
I  must  stay  with  my  race.  What  good  would 
it  do  to  educate  me  like  a. white  woman  when 
I  can  never  live  among  white  people  ?  You 
have  made  all  the  atonement  necessary.  I 
know  you  are  sorry  for  me.  I  can  see  in  your 
face  that  you  have  changed.  I  believe  you 


192  Stephen  the  Black 

have  a  noble,  tender  heart.  I  do  not  need  to 
say  '  I  forgive ' —  It  was  not  all  your  fault.  I 
know  the  degradation  of  my  people, — and  the 
way  you  were  taught  to  look  down  on  them. 
It  was  part  of  your  education  to  believe — to 
think — that  you  could  not  make  me — any 
worse  than  I  was — "  The  look  of  adoration 
that  he  so  well  remembered  crept  into  her 
eyes.  She  checked  herself  suddenly  and  stood 
looking  at  him  with  parted  lips  and  crimson 
cheeks.  He  stepped  toward  her  with  a  pas 
sionate  gesture. 

"  It  sets  me  crazy  to  see  you  standing  there 
making  excuses  for  me!  Forgive  me,  do  you  ? 
I'll  never  forgive  the  laws  of  this  cursed  coun 
try!  If  there's  any  nobility  here,  it's  come  since 
I've  known  you.  .I've  been  a  reckless,  lawless 
fellow  all  my  life,  caring  nothing  for  the  laws 
of  God  or  man — I've  sought  my  own  pleasure 
always — at  any  cost.  Do  you  want  to  know 
the  whole  truth  about  it  ?  I  never  said  I  loved 
you,  did  I  ?  Perhaps  you  didn't  notice  that  I 
never  came  right  straight  out  with  it,— I  let  you 
assume  it.  That  was  part  of  the  shamefulness 


Stephen  the  Black  193 

of  the  whole  thing,— but  now  here's  the  truth, 
— I  do  love  you  dearly, — whatever  you  are, 
just  as  you  stand  there.  And  what's  more,  I 
always  did — "  In  another  second  Ralph  would 
have  seized  her  hands  if  -she  had  not  drawn 
quickly  away.  She  reached  the  door  so  that  es 
cape  was  easy,  but  instead  of  flying  from  the 
room,  she  turned  toward  him  a  face  pale,  yet 
radiant  with  tender  resolution.  He  stopped  in 
obedience  to  its  powerful  protest. 

"Hush — I've  no  right  to  listen — I  will  not 
listen !  Do  you  hear  that  bell  ?  It  means  even 
ing  service.  Come  with  me — oh,  come  and  see 
— my  people;  then  you  will  understand.  It's 
a  short  service,  and  perhaps  you  will  like  the 
music.  Yes,— you  had  better  come." 

As  she  led  the  way  immediately,  Ralph 
could  do  nothing  but  follow  her  through  the 
long  corridor  into  the  open  air  outside.  They 
walked  together  silently  until  Theresa  stopped 
before  the  door  of  a  large  hall,  the  dimensions 
of  which  extended  vaguely  into  the  night.  As 
they  entered,  Ralph's  first  impression  was  that 
of  the  primitive  circus  tent  of  his  boyhood. 


194  Stephen  the  Black 

The  place  was  dimly  lighted  by  small  kero 
sene  lamps  fastened  to  the  walls  and  posts. 
The  building  was  an  immense  shed;  the 
ground  was  covered  with  sawdust  and 
boarded  only  in  the  narrow  aisles  leading  to 
a  raised  platform.  Students  were  filing  in 
unceremoniously  and  seating  themselves  on 
boards  laid  across  low  wooden  supports. 

AH  was  confusion  for  a  few  minutes  as 
Theresa  led  the  way  toward  the  platform  on 
which  stood  a  reading  desk.  She  waited  to 
see  Ralph  seat  himself  on  a  bench  intended 
for  visitors,  and  then  quickly  withdrew. 

Ralph  looked  with  curiosity  not  unmingled 
with  contempt  at  the  rude  simplicity  of  this 
"Hall  of  Worship."  It  had  every  appearance 
of  having  been  put  up  for  temporary  conven 
ience.  The  size  of  it  was  astonishing,  but  not 
more  so  than  the  number  of  students  that  now 
filled  the  benches  as  far  back  as  he  could  see. 
Their  black  faces  seemed  to  absorb  what  little 
light  there  was,  and  the  whites  of  their  eyes 
gleamed  solemnly  in  the  smoky  twilight  of  an 
insufficient  number  of  oil  lamps. 


Stephen  the  Black  195 

He  raised  his  eyes  to  the  roof  and  observed 
that  the  interior  was  draped  profusely  with 
red,  white  and  blue  bunting.  The  upright 
posts  which  supported  the  roof  were  fes 
tooned  with  the  same  colors,  and  back  of 
him  two  American  flags  were  crossed  against 
the  wall. 

His  Southern  blood  resented  these  evidences 
of  excessive  patriotism  which  seemed  to  sug 
gest  that  the  dusky  children  seated  below  had 
a  special  claim  to  the  protection  of  the  flag. 
While  he  sat  frowning  at  the  thought,  some 
one  advanced  to  the  reading  desk  and  began  a 
simple  prayer.  At  its  conclusion,  from  an 
unknown  quarter  came  what  sounded  like  the 
low  notes  of  a  Gregorian  chant;  beginning 
almost  in  a  whisper,  it  was  quickly  taken  up 
by  other  female  voices  until  it  rose  into  an 
organ-like  hymn  of  thanksgiving: 

"  My  Lord,  what  a  morning  when  de  stars  begin  to  fall ! 
You  hear  de  trumpets  sound 
To  wake  de  nations  under  de  ground. 
Look  in  my  Lord's  right  hand 
When  de  stars  begin  to  fall !  " 


196  Stephen  the  Black 

It  was  an  old  plantation  melody  and  died 
away  as  softly  as  it  had  begun. 

Ralph  tried  in  vain  to  discover  the  singers, 
fancying  that  he  had  recognized  Theresa's 
voice  among  the  sopranos. 

The  service  was  short  and  closed  with  an 
other  plantation  hymn  called  "  Climbin'  Jacob's 
Ladder."  The  words  were  comparatively 
meaningless,  but  the  music  was  indeed  a 
ladder  of  harmonies.  It  began  in  a  wail  of 
despair  and  rose  in  successive  climaxes  higher 
and  higher  until  the  voices  seemed  to  touch  the 
roof  in  a  cry  of  religious  exaltation. 

Through  the  influence  of  this  remarkable 
music  Ralph's  spirit  was  thrilled  into  silence. 
He  closed  his  eyes  and  the  magic  art  of  the 
singers  brought  a  strange  picture  before  his 
mind.  There  stood  before  him  a  massive, 
high  cross— doubtless,  the  cross  of  Calvary — 
and  against  it  leaned  a  great  ladder.  At  the 
foot  of  the  cross  lay  numerous  sufferers  with 
their  arms  raised  appealingly.  Their  wailing 
cry  was  in  his  ears;  it  was  taken  up  by  others 
who  stood  on  the  ladder  and  were  slowly, 


Stephen  the  Black  197 

painfully,  climbing  upward.  Undoubtedly, 
they  had  all  been  sufferers  together,  but  some 
had  escaped  and  were  now  high  above  the 
ground.  When  the  cry  of  those  below  be 
came  most  distressing,  the  climbers  hesitated 
and  looked  back.  Then  slowly  they  retraced 
their  steps  and  stooping  down,  lifted  the 
prostrate  ones  and  tenderly  assisted  them  to 
climb  too.  As  they  mounted  the  ladder  thus 
together  with  surprising  ease  and  swiftness, 
their  voices  blended,  the  sobbing  wail  be 
came  a  cry  of  triumphant  faith;  they  passed 
up  and  onward,  and  vanished  from  his 
sight! 

Ralph  opened  his  eyes  and  the  real  scene 
before  him  gained  suddenly  an  impressive  sig 
nificance.  The  dusky  young  faces, — all  wear 
ing  as  it  were  impenetrable  masks, — seemed 
to  be  gazing  backward  into  their  extraordi 
nary  history;  their  eyes  were  saying  with 
pathetic  patience, 

"We  know  all  that  we  have  suffered — we 
do  not  forget.  But  everything  will  be  made 
clear  and  every  wrong  righted,  when  our  God 


198  Stephen  the  Black 

leads  us  by  the  hand  into  the  place  where  He 
intends  us  to  be." 

Ralph  became  dimly  aware  that  their  mu 
sical  art  was  an  expression  of  spiritual  power. 
He  stared  furtively  about  him  during  the 
closing  prayer  and  tried  to  understand  some 
thing  of  what  must  be  the  feeling  of  these 
dark-skinned  children  of  America  for  the  stars 
and  stripes.  The  flag  had  so  far  fulfilled  their 
most  daring  prophecies;  it  was  at  once  the 
symbol  of  their  faith  and  the  interpreter  of 
their  largest  hope. 

As  the  students  filed  out  two  by  two,  cross 
ing  the  platform  directly  in  front  of  him  to 
march  down  the  right  aisle  and  out  the  door, 
the  sight  of  the  familiar  woolly  heads  and 
homely  black  features  recalled  his  habitual 
derisive  attitude  toward  the  race.  The  influ 
ence  of  the  music  died  away;  he  looked  at 
them  coldly  as  before — until  startled  by  the 
sight  of  many  fair  faces  among  them. 

The  sting  of  shame  then  entered  his  heart  as 
he  counted  one  face  after  another  that  had 
strong  claim  to  the  recognition  of  the  whites 


Stephen  the  Black  199 

through  ties  of  blood.  There  was  abundant 
evidence  that  the  black  and  the  white  races 
had  mingled,  and  that  one  race  was  bearing 
the  unlawful  burdens  of  both.  Ralph  groaned 
inwardly  as  Theresa  passed  him  accompanied 
by  a  young  girl  fairer  than  herself  though  less 
beautiful.  With  what  proud  humility  did 
those  white  children  move  among  their  dark 
sisters! — "  I  am  with  you  but  not  one  of  you," 
each  seemed  to  say. 

The  meeting  was  over.  Theresa  had  disap 
peared,  and  Ralph  made  his  way  disconso 
lately  back  to  the  town  with  his  heart  full  of 
pain  and  discontent. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

IT  was  now  possible  to  hold  school  in  the 
new,  shining,  frame  building  which  had  be 
come  the  glory  of  the  neighborhood.  The 
Thomas'  Mills  people  had  been  unable  to  re 
sist  its  charms  and  petitioned  to  send  their 
children  to  the  "'Cad'my,"  accepting  with 
gratitude  the  privilege  of  contributing  toward 
its  support.  They  gave  up  their  separate 
school  and  had  the  divided  fund  restored  to 
its  original  amount. 

Pupils  flocked  to  it  from  many  miles  around. 
Already  the  school-roll  numbered  over  one 
hundred.  An  assistant  teacher  was  an  abso 
lute  necessity,  yet  the  field-hands  were  bear 
ing  as  heavy  a  burden  as  they  could  carry  in 
paying  off  gradually  the  cost  of  material  and 
the  purchase  of  the  land  on  which  the  school 
stood. 

The  early  summer  found  Stephen  on  his 
way  to  the  North,  fired  with  an  ambition  to 
200 


Stephen  the  Black  201 

raise  the  needed  funds  either  by  his  own  la 
bor,  or  by  appealing  to  the  fabulous  generos 
ity  of  Northern  philanthropists  in  whose  good 
ness  he  believed  as  implicitly  as  he  did  in  the 
articles  of  the  Christian  religion. 

He  stepped  out  of  the  colored  coach  at 
Washington, — he  might  have  left  it  earlier  if 
he  had  been  so  minded,  but  his  thoughts  were 
not  on  distinctions  of  race — and  on  entering 
the  train  of  the  Pennsylvania  Railroad  he  was 
somewhat  abashed  to  find  himself  the  only 
colored  man  in  the  car.  He  selected  a  seat  near 
the  door  conspicuous  for  its  discomfort,  and  as 
the  car  filled  up,  one  traveler  after  another  ap 
proached  him,  hesitated,  looked  at  him  and 
passed  on  into  the  next  car.  But  Stephen's  feel 
ings  were  not  hurt  by  the  fact  that  he  was  per 
mitted  on  account  of  his  color  to  occupy  a  seat 
intended  for  two.  He  looked  steadily  out  of  the 
window,  having  shrunk  into  the  smallest  space 
that  it  was  possible  for  him  to  fit  into  after 
laying  his  bag  on  the  floor.  Strange  to  say, 
he  was  light-hearted  over  the  situation,  and 
pondered  with  a  keen  relish  the  disinterested- 


202  Stephen  the  Black 

ness  of  Northern  justice  which  now  permitted 
him  to  remain  where  he  was  not  wanted,  after 
fighting  bloody  battles  to  bestow  on  him  this 
unique  privilege. 

"After  all,"  he  reflected,  "there  is  more 
safety  in  justice  than  in  sentiment.  It  is  all 
we  have  a  right  to  ask, — it's  all  we  need  pray 
for."  The  simple  fellow  !  As  if  he  could 
have  asked  for  a  more  extravagant  thing  than 
justice ! 

At  Philadelphia,  he  got  off  and  spent  several 
days  looking  up  wealthy  philanthropists. 
Most  of  them  lived  out  of  town  or  had  recently 
moved  out.  They  were  generally  inaccessi 
ble,  but  patient  enough  when  once  run  down 
and  cornered.  A  few  of  them  had  agents  to 
whom  the  solicitous  were  referred.  He  felt 
sure  that  the  sole  duty  of  these  odious  persons 
consisted  in  refusing  everybody  with  Spartan- 
like  firmness,  for  he  could  read  a  refusal  in 
their  eyes  before  he  began  his  plea.  These 
creatures  were  unskilled  in  a  knowledge  of 
human  nature;  they  attempted  no  investiga 
tion  into  his  merits;  they  heard  him  out  with 


Stephen  the  Black  203 

unchanging  countenances  and  shut  the  door 
on  his  hopes  without  a  sign  of  relief  or 
regret.  He  learned  soon  to  avoid  them.  The 
philanthropists  themselves  were  easily  enough 
bored,  but  they  were  vulnerable  in  spots, 
many  seeming  to  find  it  easier  to  give  than 
to  refuse,  because  it  offered  a  prompt  and  cer 
tain  way  of  ending  the  interview.  They  ap 
peared  to  live  through  such  interviews  in  a 
state  of  suspended  animation,  like  fish  that 
had  been  drawn  out  of  water,  and  Stephen 
used  to  feel  that  it  was  only  the  blessed  hope 
of  getting  rid  of  him  that  kept  the  poor,  gasp 
ing  gentlemen  alive  through  the  brief  interval 
of  his  coming  and  going.  He  felt  sorry  for 
them  and  wondered  they  did  not  all  employ 
agents  to  refuse  for  them, — and  then  he  felt 
sorry  for  himself,  because,  having  spent  so 
much  time  and  money  running  in  and  out  of 
the  city  in  pursuit  of  these  lifeless  objects,  he 
had  secured  only  a  few  dollars  to  show  for 
his  indefatigable  efforts. 

He  thought  it  strange  that  so  many  of  these 
gentlemen  were  already  patrons  of  other  col- 


204  Stephen  the  Black 

ored  schools— even  of  his  own  Sectarian  Col 
lege — and  yet  were  so  indifferent  to  his  mis 
sion.  He  was  slow  to  learn  that  benefactors 
as  a  class  suffer  acute  distress  in  the  presence 
of  their  beneficiaries;  that  the  first  object  of 
all  endowments  for  the  care  of  unfortunates  is 
to  keep  them  out  of  sight;  the  fact  of  their 
miserable  existence  adds  lustre  only  to  the 
pages  of  an  annual  report. 

Moreover,  he  but  dimly  discerned  what  may 
be  described  as  the  national  attitude  of  the 
average  white  American  toward  the  black. 
For  thirty  years  it  has  been  his  habit  of  mind 
to  look  over,  by  or  beyond  the  black  man,  but 
never  at  him.  Though  northern  cities  may 
teem  with  representatives  of  the  liberated 
race,  the  white  American  of  the  North  knows 
the  black  only  by  the  dreadful  things  he  reads 
about  him  in  southern  despatches. 

It  will  thus  be  seen  that  the  sudden  appear 
ance  of  this  very  dark  young  man  in  the  offices 
of  our  worthy  philanthropists  caused  a  double 
embarrassment  and  a  complication  of  painful 
sensations.  These  poor  gentlemen  suffered 


Stephen  the  Black  205 

from  the  unpleasantness  of  meeting  one  of 
their  beneficiaries  face  to  face, — and  they  were 
torn  with  the  peculiar  anguish  that  only  a 
white  American  feels  on  being  forced  to  con 
template  the  living,  breathing  proof  of  a  na 
tional  problem  that  he  is  determined  to  ignore. 

After  the  second  week's  experience  Stephen 
put  away  his  letters  of  introduction  and 
sauntered  about  the  city  thinking  what  he 
should  do  next. 

The  voices  of  children  singing  in  a  public 
school  attracted  his  attention  and  he  entered 
the  building  to  hear  their  recitations.  The 
teacher  made  him  welcome  and  gave  him  a 
chair.  The  school  was  overcrowded,  and  he 
marveled  at  the  precision  and  orderliness  of 
the  pupils.  They  recited  several  lessons  aided 
by  maps,  globes,  charts  and  clay  models. 
When  the  bell  rang,  they  marched  like  veteran 
soldiers  on  parade,  and  Stephen  was  deeply 
impressed  by  all  the  methods  employed.  He 
told  the  schoolmistress  in  his  best  English 
that  he  had  never  seen  before  such  a  system 
of  object  lessons. 


206  Stephen  the  Black 

The  young  woman  stated  pleasantly  that 
the  system  had  been  taught  for  years  in  all 
the  public  schools, — it  was  not  new,  in  fact, 
it  was  rather  old-fashioned;  in  Boston  there 
was  a  method  now  in  vogue,  which  she 
hoped  would  soon  be  introduced  into  Phila 
delphia.  She  mentioned  it  by  what  seemed  to 
him  an  unpronounceable  name,  and  asked  if 
he  did  not  think  it  superior  to  another,  the 
name  of  which  was  equally  unfamiliar  to  him. 
He  confessed  his  ignorance  humbly.  To  cover 
his  embarrassment,  she  went  on  talking  in  her 
alert,  crisp  fashion,  comparing  the  various 
methods  in  use  for  years  past  and  comment 
ing  on  the  choice  of  text-books  in  her  school. 
As  she  named  them,  Stephen  was  forced  to 
admit  that  many  of  the  titles  were  new  to 
him.  But  as  the  schoolmistress  talked  on  good- 
naturedly,  pouring  volumes  of  information 
into  his  eager  ears,  Stephen  took  out  a  little 
notebook  and  jotted  down  what  seemed  to 
him  the  chief  points.  He  thought  her  very 
kind;  she  seemed  to  overlook  his  color,  and  to 
address  herself  to  the  teacher  in  him,  but  his 


Stephen  the  Black  207 

heart  sank  lower  and  lower  during  her  dis 
course,  for  it  seemed  that  he  had  never  before 
realized  his  unfitness  for  the  task  he  had  un 
dertaken.  What  miracles  might  not  such  a 
one  as  this  schoolmistress  have  worked  among 
his  poor  people  in  the  Black  Belt!  Finally  his 
spirit  groaned  aloud  in  these  words: 

"You  must  excuse  my  ignorance,  lady — it's 
the  fault  of  my  race  to  be  superficial.  We  are 
easily  satisfied  with  a  smattering  of  knowl 
edge  and  think  we  know  it  all.  That's  why 
we  make  so  little  progress." 

The  bitter  humility  of  the  dark  skinned 
stranger  evidently  touched  her,  for  she  an 
swered  with  a  look  of  kindness  into  the  grey 
eyes  that  seemed  to  be  peering  at  her  through  a 
black  mask — Stephen  now  being  blacker  than 
usual  after  his  experience  in  the  cotton-fields : 

"I  wouldn't  blame  my  race,  if  I  were  you, 
for  faults  that  are  common  to  human  nature. 
It's  all  a  matter  of  training.  I've  been  drilled 
in  these  methods  all  my  life;  I  didn't  originate 
them.  Where  did  you  study  ? "  Stephen 
named  the  Sectarian  College,  and  was  sur- 


208  Stephen  the  Black 

prised  that  she  had  never  heard  of  it.  He  had 
always  thought  it  the  greatest  institution  of 
learning  in  the  world! 

He  took  heart  again  and  confided  to  her 
some  of  his  experiences  as  a  teacher  in  the 
South,  but  all  the  conditions  of  life  had  to  be 
explained  from  the  beginning.  When  he  told 
her  about  his  beloved  "Academy,"  and  how 
it  had  been  started  and  built,  she  cried  out 
with  enthusiasm  that  it  was  magnificent — 
wonderful!  Stephen  left  her  greatly  soothed 
and  encouraged.  He  promised  to  write  to  her 
of  the  progress  of  his  school,  and  she  volun 
teered  to  interest  her  friends  and  pupils  in  its 
welfare.  How  much  better  was  she,  he 
thought,  than  the  philanthropists!  How 
munificent  was  her  sympathy,  in  comparison 
with  their  niggardly  supply!  But  1  am  willing 
to  admit  that  he  did  the  real  lovers  of  humanity 
an  injustice;  it  was  simply  his  misfortune  to 
have  come  across  spurious  specimens.  The 
real  ones  still  exist,  winding  their  way  in 
and  out  of  the  crowded  ranks  of  humanity 
like  angels  with  folded  wings,  which  even 


Stephen  the  Black  209 

great  riches  cannot  soil  or  clog.  And  some 
of  them  dare  even  to  look  the  national  problem 
squarely  in  the  face! 

Stephen's  interview  with  the  schoolmistress 
remained  fixed  in  his  memory,  and  yielded 
ever  afterward  a  secret  pleasing  excitement 
whenever  he  recalled  it.  It  was  seldom  that 
one  of  his  race  met  one  of  hers  on  such  a 
plane  of  common  interest — and  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  in  him  yearned  often  for  communion 
with  the  superb  mental  endowments  of  the 
superior  race.  Secretly  in  his  boyhood  days, 
he  had  built  air-castles  in  which  high-minded 
white  individuals  would  converse  with  him 
freely — mistaking  him  in  the  darkness  of  a 
railway  car  or  similar  place  for  a  white  man — 
even  to  the  extent  of  offering  him  social 
privileges  which  he  would  of  course  modestly, 
honorably,  firmly  decline.  The  biting  injustice 
of  the  white  American's  customary  attitude 
would  then  be  finely  exposed,  when  the 
superior  being  would  discover  his  mistake 
— after  receiving  an  object  lesson  which  would 
of  course  induce  him  to  cast  out  forever  the 


210  Stephen  the  Black 

thick  film  of  race  prejudice  with  which  his 
eyes  were  blinded. 

But  such  episodes  existed  so  far  only  in 
Stephen's  imagination,  and  he  was  therefore 
the  more  grateful  to  the  schoolmistress  for  her 
absence  of  condescension  in  the  broad  light  of 
day. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

ALTHOUGH  Stephen  was  a  good  penman,  an 
accurate  accountant  and  a  clever  carpenter,  he 
was  too  well  acquainted  with  the  peculiar 
form  of  race  prejudice  in  the  North  to  waste 
time  seeking  employment  in  any  of  these 
lines.  Through  the  efforts  of  a  friend,  he 
secured  a  position  as  waiter  in  a  large  sum 
mer  hotel  situated  at  a  fashionable  seaside  re 
sort,  and  as  it  was  now  open  and  guests  were 
pouring  in  plentifully,  his  services  began 
without  delay. 

Stephen  had  never  "waited"  before  in  a 
professional  sense,  but  this  humble  waiting  on 
individuals  instead  of  on  time  and  opportunity 
seemed  to  him  only  a  more  acute  stage  of  his 
chronic  condition. 

Some  of  his  comrades  were  wild  young 

blacks  who  shifted  from  city  to  city  in  winter 

and  from  mountain  to  seashore  in  summer. 

The  habits  of  these  individuals  were  extrava- 

211 


212  Stephen  the  Black 

gant;  but  others  were  sedate  young  fellows 
intent  on  making  hay  while  their  brief  sum 
mer  sun  shone.  All  of  them,  however,  were 
good-natured,  and  they  gave  Stephen  invalu 
able  points  in  the  science  of  remembering  or 
ders,  serving  dishes,  carrying  heavy  trays,  and 
bowing  with  exquisite  grace.  Some  of  the 
men  were  graduates  of  training  schools  estab 
lished  for  the  industrial  development  of  the 
race.  They  had  become  skilled  craftsmen  and 
were  striking  examples  of  the  satirical  benev 
olence  of  the  North  which  bestows  the  hand 
some  accomplishment  of  a  trade  on  a  black, 
and  then  commands  him  to  starve  or  steal 
rather  than  live  by  it.  That  these  individuals 
had  succeeded  in  prolonging  their  existence 
without  either  starving  or  stealing  was  cer 
tainly  a  proof  of  their  ingenuity.  We  need 
not  lose  self-esteem  by  giving  them  credit  for 
ingenuity. 

The  head-waiter  was  a  graduate  of  Harvard 
and  had  been  selected  with  great  care,  not  be 
cause  of  his  Greek  and  Hebrew  accomplish 
ments  (of  which  the  proprietor  indeed  knew 


Stephen  the  Black  213 

nothing)  but  because  his  honesty  was  unques 
tioned,  his  habits  beyond  reproach,  and  his  com 
mand  of  men,  napkins  and  china  equal  to  that  of 
a  great  general  over  an  army.  His  name  was 
Henry  Howards;  he  was  a  coal-black  negro 
of  good  height  and  heavy  build;  his  expres 
sion  was  thoughtful  and  his  smile  pleasing. 
Stephen  looked  up  to  him  as  a  man  of  pro 
found  learning  and  was  delighted  when 
Howards  condescended  to  notice  him,  and  in 
vited  him  more  than  once  to  spend  an  evening 
in  his  room. 

Stephen  served  at  a  table  monopolized  by  a 
wealthy  Boston  family  by  the  name  of 
Ormsby;  he  understood  vaguely  that  they 
were  great  people  in  the  social  world,  and  he 
heard  them  described  also  as  philanthropists. 
The  term  made  him  quake  in  his  low  shoes, 
for  he  still  believed  that  the  future  of  his  race 
lay  in  the  hands  of  this  class. 

Accordingly  he  ran  his  legs  off  cheerfully  to 
obtain  for  the  Ormsbys  the  hottest  rolls  and 
the  choicest  lamb  chops,  and  in  every  way 
presented  himself  to  their  languid  perceptions 


214  Stephen  the  Black 

as  a  being  whose  head  had  grown  to  one  side 
in  an  anxious  stoop  to  receive  their  indistinct 
commands.  Such  a  beneficent  adaptation  of 
means  to  an  end  may  possibly  have  required 
a  special  act  of  creation — of  which  the  Orms- 
bys  doubtless  believed  they  were  deemed  not 
unworthy. 

In  the  evening  the  waiters  sat  together  in 
the  kitchen  and  displayed  their  social  graces 
in  various  ways.  They  were  quite  as  merry 
notwithstanding  their  hard  work,  as  the 
guests  in  the  hotel  parlor;  in  fact,  I  do  not 
know  that  they  were  not  merrier  for  they  had 
such  good  stories  to  tell  of  the  number  of 
dishes  ordered  by  the  great  ones  of  the  earth, 
the  amount  they  devoured,  the  absurdity  of 
their  complaints,  and  the  gossip  that  was  re 
peated  at  their  tables. 

As  the  men  were  excellent  singers,  Howards 
one  day  suggested  that  they  should  give  a 
concert  for  the  benefit  of  Stephen's  school. 

The  day  on  which  the  performance  was  to 
be  given,  every  waiter  laid  an  assortment  of 


Stephen  the  Black  215 

tickets  and  programs  on  the  table  before  the 
guests  had  assembled.  During  the  dinner 
Stephen's  hopes  ran  high  for  he  heard  enough 
to  know  that  the  programs  were  read  aloud 
amid  laughter  and  comment.  He  brought  on 
the  dessert  with  a  beating  heart  and  hastened 
after  the  coffee.  On  his  return  he  found  words 
to  make  a  short  plea  in  behalf  of  his  school. 

Mrs.  Ormsby  drank  her  coffee  and  address 
ing  the  coffee-pot,  observed  that  she  had  once 
been  a  great  friend  of  the  negro  but  had  now 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  a  great  deal  of 
money  had  been  thrown  away  on  educating 
him  above  his  position.  The  race  had  become 
shiftless  and  good-for-nothing.  The  colored 
people  needed  to  be  made  to  work.  Freedom 
had  done  them  no  good. 

Stephen  fixed  his  grey  eyes  haughtily  upon 
her.  He  answered  in  utter  defiance  of  every 
precedent  in  his  experience  as  a  menial: 

"My  people  have  never  eaten  bread  that 
they've  not  earned, — they've  paid  double  the 
price  for  every  mouthful  that  the  white  man 
has  paid ! " 


216  Stephen  the  Black 

The  great  lady  stared,  rose  majestically  from 
her  seat  and  swept  out  of  the  room.  He 
learned  later  from  one  of  his  comrades  who 
had  been  summoned  to  the  parlor  on  an  errand, 
that  she  expressed  her  indignation  at  great 
length  to  sympathetic  circles  in  the  parlor,  and 
declared  it  to  be  her  choice  henceforth  to  be 
surrounded  and  served  by  members  of  her 
own  race.  Howards  reproved  him  severely 
for  his  folly. 

"You  might  as  well  invite  an  iceberg  to 
roll  over  you,  and  expect  to  melt  it  with  your 
fiery  heart.  Keep  out  of  the  way  of  icebergs! 
All  humanity  flees  from  them — and  are  you 
going  to  block  their  progress  ?  " 

The  upshot  of  it  was  that  nearly  all  the 
guests  with  the  exception  of  the  nurses  and 
children  stayed  away  from  the  concert.  The 
receipts  amounted  to  next  to  nothing,  and 
Stephen  went  to  bed  that  night  with  his  hopes 
crushed.  To  add  to  his  depression,  the  even 
ing  papers  told  a  terrible  tale  of  massacre  in 
one  of  the  southern  states — the  victims  being 
as  usual,  accused,  untried,  defenceless  blacks. 


Stephen  the  Black  217 

He  hugged  his  pillow  with  angry  eyes,  and 
tossed  in  sorrow  and  despair  many  hours. 
What  was  to  become  of  his  school  if  money 
could  not  be  raised  for  it  in  the  North, — ay, — 
what  was  to  become  of  his  race  if  the  whole 
nation  turned  against  it  with  the  cold  scorn  of 
Mrs.  Ormsby  and  her  friends  ? 

At  last  he  fell  asleep  and  dreamed  that  he 
was  clinging  to  the  steep,  rocky  side  of  a 
mountain ;  his  hands  clutched  rootless  shrubs 
and  saplings,  his  feet  were  planted  in  loose 
gravel.  Vainly  he  sought  a  path  upward.  A 
rushing  noise  was  in  his  ears.  He  looked 
above  him  and  saw  a  handsomely  painted  car, 
decorated  with  flags  and  banners,  descending 
toward  him  on  an  inclined  plane  which  made 
a  sharp  curve  just  below  his  feet. 

Fascinated  by  its  swift,  even  motion,  he 
gazed  eagerly,  and  beheld  a  group  of  noble- 
looking  men  and  women  on  the  front  plat 
form  ;  the  central  figure — an  ideal  of  majestic 
womanhood — was  robed  in  white  and  wore 
a  shining  coronet  of  braided  yellow  hair. 

As  the  car  drew  nearer,  Stephen  believed  its 


218  Stephen  the  Black 

occupants  were  coming  to  rescue  him  from 
his  perilous  position.  It  was  advancing  with 
terrific  speed — it  was  rushing  almost  upon 
him — it  entered  the  curve  at  his  feet— and 
then  his  astonished  eyes  saw  distinctly  that 
the  faces  of  the  group  on  the  platform  were 
blanched  with  terror.  The  rushing  wind  was 
sweeping  their  hair  backward,  and  wrapping 
their  garments  tightly  about  their  trembling 
limbs;  the  eyes  of  every  member  of  the  group 
were  fixed  and  staring— full  of  an  awful 
dread! 

As  the  car  swung  around  the  curve,  Stephen 
knew  that  all  was  lost,— the  motorman  had 
lost  his  grip,  the  car  could  never  round  that 
curve  in  safety — it  was  tearing  headlong  to 
destruction.  He  closed  his  eyes  that  he  might 
not  witness  the  fearful  catastrophe — but  was 
forced  to  open  them  quickly.  With  a  fright 
ful  crash,  followed  by  shrieks  and  groans  of 
anguish,  the  car  plunged  off  the  track,  and 
now  lay  overturned — a  shapeless  pile  of 
broken,  smoking  timber  on  the  mountain-side. 

What  had  become  of  the  unfortunate  occu- 


Stephen  the  Black  219 

pants  and  especially  of  that  noble  group  on 
the  front  platform  ?  He  leaned  forward,  his 
eyes  streaming  with  pity,  longing  to  help,  but 
unable  to  stir  from  the  spot. 

Far  down  the  mountain-side,  there  emerged 
from  the  wreck  some  signs  of  life.  Whitish, 
shapeless  creatures  were  creeping  slowly  from 
under  the  broken  timbers  and  making  their 
way  back  to  the  inclined  plane;  they  were  fol 
lowed  by  others  still  creeping  on  their  hands 
and  knees.  It  was  a  pitiful  sight, — nay,  it 
was  sickening!  More  and  more  of  them  came 
creeping — creeping— back  to  the  track  until 
they  resembled  a  herd  of— what  ?  No  longer 
could  he  deceive  himself:  the  sight  froze  his 
blood — those  creeping  things  were  not  human 
beings, — they  were  a  herd  of  swine  rushing 
violently  down  a  steep  place  into  the  sea!  He 
saw  them  leap  by  sixes  and  dozens  madly  into 
the  black  waters  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain! 

In  his  dream,  this  discovery  was  followed 
by  a  fit  of  cold  horror,  from  which  he  passed 
into  convulsive  sobbing  and  weeping, — and 
in  this  state  he  awoke. 


220  Stephen  the  Black 

The  night  was  still  dark;  a  storm  was  rag 
ing;  his  small  attic  room  was  illuminated  by 
flashes  of  lightning;  thunderbolts  seemed  fall 
ing  all  about  him.  He  saw  again  the  advanc 
ing  car,  its  waving  banners,  its  group  of  brave 
men  and  women, — and  in  the  darkness,  there 
was  suddenly  blazed  upon  his  mental  vision 
an  inscription  which  he  had  failed  to  notice  on 
the  platform  in  his  dream,  but  which  he  now 
beheld  there  distinctly: 

' 'Anglo-Saxon  Civilisation." 

The  meaning  of  it  all  was  perfectly  clear 
to  him:  the  white  man's  civilization  was  to 
be  destroyed — even  the  advance  guard  was 
doomed  and  moving  rapidly  toward  its  fate. 

The  anti- climax  of  the  sv/ine — arranged 
with  devilish  glee  by  the  arch-fiend  himself  to 
belittle  the  sufferings  which  the  dream  por 
trayed — gave  the  finishing  touch  to  the  whole 
hideous  catastrophe, — it  was  this  that  almost 
broke  his  heart.  He  cried  out  suddenly, 

"Spare  them, — O  God,  spare  Thy  favored 
race,  and  let  them  not  be  laid  in  the  dust  that 


Stephen  the  Black  221 

the  devils  may  enter  their  souls  and  rush  them 
into  the  sea  as  swine — as  swine!  " 

He  sat  up  in  bed  and  stretched  out  his  arms, 
moved  by  some  violent  emotion — some  deep 
spring  of  racial  affinity.  The  thought  of  the 
possible  downfall  of  the  great  superior  race 
filled  him  with  an  overwhelming  sorrow— it 
was  more  than  he  could  bear.  Gladly,  he 
would  have  died  to  save  them ! 

When  the  storm  of  his  emotion  had  died 
away,  he  tried  vainly  to  account  for  its  in 
tensity  on  the  ground  of  a  universal  humanity. 
It  left  him  calm  and  passionless;  he  beheld 
without  pain  the  floating  wreck  of  his  broken 
hopes  for  his  own  race.  For  the  time  being, 
his  hopes  possessed  no  significance  to  him. 
Nothing  mattered,  after  all,  he  reflected,  in 
dull  despondency, — and  soon  afterward,  he 
fell  asleep. 


CHAPTER  XX 

A  LETTER  from  Theresa,  returning  the  amount 
he  had  forwarded  for  her  board,  threw  Stephen 
into  still  greater  despondency.  He  had  com 
mitted,  he  believed,  a  colossal  blunder  in 
his  hasty  marriage.  He  had  deeply  wronged 
the  innocent  young  girl  by  hurrying  her  into  a 
union  which  was  now  uncongenial  to  her.  In 
rejecting  the  small  sum  he  had  hitherto  con 
tributed  toward  her  support,  she  meant  to  in 
dicate  her  desire  for  independence.  The  tie 
was  irksome  already.  Well,  it  was  only  nomi 
nal  and  perhaps  some  legal  technicality  might 
be  found  to  sever  it.  He  thought  of  her  often, 
but  always  as  a  fair  jewel  that  he  had  stolen 
and  that  was  too  fine  and  delicate  to  adorn  his 
life  of  drudgery.  He  could  be  of  little  service 
to  her.  As  yet  he  was  a  dismal  failure,  bring 
ing  ruin  to  his  friends  on  the  cotton-field,  and 
unhappiness  to  Theresa. 

"I  am  an  unfortunate  fellow,"  he  said, 
222 


Stephen  the  Black  223 

gloomily,  to  Howards,  "born  of  a  vanishing 
race,  what  can  I  hope  to  accomplish  ?  There 
is  no  future  for  us  either  in  the  North  or  the 
South." 

"  We're  not  vanishing  very  fast,"  replied  the 
head- waiter,  with  a  grim  smile,  "we've  more 
than  doubled  our  numbers  since  the  war.  Our 
increasing  ratio  is  our  strongest  point.  It's 
true  that  savage  races  cannot  survive  contact 
with  civilization,  but  we  have  proved  that  we 
were  made  for  civilization,  Stephen,  my  boy." 

"I  used  to  feel  sure,"  said  Stephen,  "that 
we  were  made  for  some  great  purpose, — that 
God  led  us  into  slavery  to  set  us  free  in  the 
heart  of  this  great  nation  because  He  had  a  no 
ble  destiny  planned  for  us,  but  of  late,  I've 
begun  to  doubt  if  we  were  meant  for  anything 
but  to  be  wiped  out  of  existence.  We're  be 
hind  every  other  race.  They  say  down  South 
in  their  newspapers  that  we've  been  behind 
for  thousands  of  years,  and  that  we  always 
were  incapable  of  rising  to  the  dignity  of  a 
nation." 

"That's  saying  too  much,"  observed  How- 


224  Stephen  the  Black 

ards,  dispassionately.  "Back  of  a  few  hun 
dred  years  they  know  nothing  of  our  his 
tory.  It's  true  we  figure  on  the  Egyptian 
monuments  as  prisoners  of  war,  with  chains 
around  our  necks,  but  that  only  proves  that 
we  were  enough  of  a  nation  for  the  great 
Egyptians  to  go  to  war  with.  The  Bible 
speaks  of  the  Ethiopians  as  a  powerful  people 
who  were  always  at  war  with  the  Egyptians. 
Of  course,  we  were  that  people." 

"Then  we've  degenerated  since,"  said 
Stephen,  lowering  his  grey  eyes. 

"  I  don't  know  about  that.  It  was  a  bar 
barous,  imperfect  kind  of  civilization  that  all 
nations  shared  in  those  days.  You  know  it 
takes  centuries  to  develop  the  feeblest  approach 
to  civilization  in  primitive  man.  Living  under 
rude  conditions  and  exposed  to  constant  dan 
gers,  the  little  he  builds  up  one  day  is  torn 
down  the  next  by  surrounding  tribes  whose 
status  is  lower  than  his  own.  The  heart  of 
Africa  is  strewn  with  the  wrecks  of  our  an 
cestors'  attempts  at  civilization.  The  tribes  of 
to-day  are  constantly  approaching  the  same 


Stephen  the  Black 

goal  and  constantly  being  driven  away.  Man's 
attempt  to  climb  upward  is  like  the  spider's 
effort  to  build  a  web.  Many  failures  to  one 
success.  Finally  when  he  does  succeed,  it  is 
due  to  some  fortunate  combination  of  circum 
stances  which  preserves  his  puny  efforts  in 
stead  of  obliterating  them." 

"But  see  how  rapidly  European  civilization 
has  advanced  within  a  few  hundred  years," 
said  Stephen,  after  a  moment's  silence. 
"Why  hasn't  our  race  accomplished  as 
much  in  the  same  time  ?  " 

"When  Egypt,  Persia,  Greece,  and  Rome 
were  in  their  prime,  why  did  European  civili 
zation  wait  a  thousand  years  and  more  for  its  de 
velopment  ?  Because  the  favorable  conditions 
of  climate,  security  from  savage  invasion  and 
contact  with  more  advanced  nations  had  not 
yet  been  realized.  I  believe  that  if  we  can 
preserve  our  racial  type  distinct,  the  develop 
ment  of  the  black  man  will  come  in  time — 
but  there's  the  rub;  it  will  not  come,  I  fear, 
through  a  mixture  of  blood.  However,  op 
pression  is  forcing  us  into  individuality  and 


226  Stephen  the  Black 

self-reliance.  There's  nothing  like  persecu 
tion  to  develop  a  race.  Don't  be  discouraged; 
our  star  is  rising,  not  setting." 

"  But  we  are  mixed  already,"  said  Stephen,, 
ruefully;  "some  say  that  not  a  full-blooded 
African  remains  in  this  country." 

"  I  confess  that  the  white  man  has  overruled^ 
my  objection  and  established  that  point  in  my 
favor,"  replied  Howards,  laughing. 

"By  his  own  decree,  the  white  strain  counts 
for  nothing  even  in  the  proportion  of  six  to 
one, — by  which  I  suppose  he  means  that  in  the 
making  of  a  race,  environment  counts  six 
times  more  than  heredity.  Heaven  knows  our 
environment  is  distinct  enough,  even  though 
our  blood  borrows  heavily  from  all  the  Cau 
casian  races,— including  the  Anglo-Saxon." 

"Ah,  the  Anglo-Saxon!"  cried  Stephen, 
brightening,  "if  we  had  only  enough  of  him 
in  us,  we  would  long  ago  have  overcome  all 
the  obstacles  that  fate  has  placed  in  our  path! " 
Then  he  thought  of  his  dream — and  winced 
visibly. 

"  Yes,  the  Anglo-Saxon,"  repeated  Howards, 


Stephen  the  Black  227 

thoughtfully,  ''he  has  filled  in  well  the  gap 
between  the  ancient  and  the  modern  world. 
He  has  made  a  good  bridge — all  iron,  steel, 
granite,  muscle  and  mechanical  skill — all  good 
things  in  a  bridge!  And  humanity's  feet  are 
plodding  heavily  over  it  toward — the  better 
things  beyond." 

"What  better  things  lie  beyond  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  and  his  'bridge,'  as  you  call  it?  I 
should  be  well  satisfied  if  you  and  I  could  set 
our  feet  on  that  'bridge/  and  stay  there  for 
ever — with  our  whole  race!"  Stephen  rose 
impetuously  from  his  chair,  flung  himself 
about,  and  sat  down  again. 

"  I  was  looking  far  ahead,"  explained  How 
ards  gently — "  very  far  across  the  centuries — 
and  I  confess  that  I  was  thinking  of  standards 
higher  than  are  known  to-day, — of  an  ideal 
justice,  for  instance,  not  known  to  any  race, — 
no  not  to  the  Anglo-Saxon !  It  is  a  notion  of 
mine  that  in  the  distant  future,  races  that  have 
suffered  like  ours,  and  that  have  never  had  a 
chance  to  maltreat  a  so-called  inferior  race, — 
will  be  likely  to  evolve  a  higher  sense  of  jus- 


228  Stephen  the  Black 

tice  than  the  Anglo-Saxon  mind  is  capable  of. 
May  it  not  be  our  destiny  to  perfect  at  last  this 
noble  sense  of  justice,  through  the  develop 
ment  in  us  of  a  far-seeing  patience  ?  How 
can  an  impatient  people  execute  justice  ?  And 
are  we  not  patient?  And  is  not  the  Anglo- 
Saxon — and  especially  the  American  type — 
peculiarly  impatient  ?  We  know  that  God 
Himself  is  patient!  Why  may  we  not  claim 
this  trait  as  a  racial  gift — the  first  strand  in  the 
new  bridge  that  is  to  be  thrown  across  for  the 
dark  races ! " 

Stephen  looked  at  him  in  wonder.  How 
ards'  words,  his  serene  philosophical  manner, 
his  deep-seated  pervasive  faith,  produced  on 
the  younger  man's  imagination  a  vision  of 
something  unique  and  extraordinarily  inspir 
ing.  For  a  second,  he  gazed  before  him  in 
breathless  admiration — almost  in  awe.  Were 
his  eyes  beholding  an  ideal  of  black  culture, 
which  could  hold  its  worth  in  direct  contrast 
to  the  white  man's  ideal,  even  as  an  ebony 
crucifix  holds  its  beauty  by  the  side  of  an 
ivory  one? 


Stephen  the  Black  229 

"They  will  force  us  into  it!"  was  his  sud 
den,  bewildering  conviction,  "we  who  were 
meant  to  be  only  the  complement  of  the  white 
races,  to  follow  where  they  lead,  to  reach  our 
development  through  service  to  them — we  are 
to  be  forced  into  racial  competition,  into  this 
unequal  struggle — God  help  us!" 

His  soul  was  in  torment — his  thoughts  too 
strange  and  deep  for  expression.  Again  he 
looked  at  Howards  who  sat  apparently  un 
moved  by  the  Frankenstein  vision  that  his 
own  words  had  created.  What  a  curious 
spectacle  he  presented — this  specimen  of  black 
solidarity,  this  humblest  type  of  human 
creature,  wrapped — from  his  skin  out — in 
social  degradation,  yet  daring  to  peer  through 
the  darkness  into  futurity,  and  believing  that 
he  saw  therein  a  glorified  image  of  himself 
thrown  on  the  distant  centuries! 

"  It's  ready — my  conscience,  but  you  fellows 
have  an  easy  time  of  it! "  said  the  cook,  poking 
his  head  through  a  side  doorway  and  glaring 
at  them  with  smoky,  fiery  eyes. 

"We   are   the  most  visionary  people  on 


230  Stephen  the  Black 

earth!"  sighed  Stephen,  tying  a  long  white 
apron  round  his  waist,  "  isn't  that  so  ?" 

"It's  good  to  see  visions,  sometimes,"  said 
Howards,  the  unabashed. 

This  conversation  was  held  in  the  dining- 
room  after  the  tables  were  set  for  dinner  and 
while  Howards  was  awaiting  a  signal  from 
the  cook  that  the  meal  was  ready  to  be  served. 
As  he  spoke,  he  threw  open  the  dining-room 
doors  and  bade  Stephen  sound  the  gong  to  no 
tify  the  guests.  There  was  no  opportunity 
for  further  remarks. 

As  the  guests  poured  into  the  large  room, 
Mrs.  Ormsby  and  her  family  appeared  in  read 
iness  to  depart  after  dinner.  The  lady,  mag 
nificently  clad  and  looking  very  tall  and 
stately,  rustled  up  to  Stephen  who  was  stand 
ing  in  the  doorway,  looking  very  spare,  dark 
and  insignificant.  She  placed  in  his  hand  a 
cheque,  saying  impressively, 

"This  is  for  your  school.  You  are  a  good 
waiter;  I  did  not  understand  at  first  that  there 
were  industrial  features.  It  is  a  worthy  ob 
ject" 


Stephen  the  Black  231 

Stephen  bowed  and  the  lady  swept  by  him 
toward  the  dinner-table.  Having  satisfied  her 
New  England  conscience,  she  could  depart 
with  a  tranquil  mind.  But  there  was  still  a 
mission  to  be  performed  on  behalf  of  the  pro 
prietor.  She  sought  him  out  after  the  meal. 

"Our  best  hotels  on  the  New  England  coast 
do  not  employ  colored  waiters,  nor  do  private 
families  select  colored  coachmen, — did  you 
know  that?" 

"Well,  perhaps  by  next  year,  madam — " 

"I  may  not  be  here  next  year — but  you  can 
let  me  know.  Good-bye."  Her  cultured 
voice  rang  in  his  ears,  penetrating  his  brain — 
down  to  his  pockets. 

The  summer  crowd  came  and  went  in  a 
succession  of  strange  faces.  Finally  the  seats 
around  the  table  were  filled  by  a  cheerful  fam 
ily  of  Longacres  from  Philadelphia.  They  ad 
dressed  each  other  in  the  Friends'  dialect,  but 
they  were  not  strict  Quakers,  for  they  wore 
the  garb  of  the  world  modified  by  an  in 
herited  love  of  quiet  colors.  Stephen  took  a 
mighty  fancy  to  them.  The  tones  of  their 


232  Stephen  the  Black 

voices  were  human  and  natural — even  when 
ordering  hot  buttered  toast.  They  looked  at 
him  as  if  they  really  saw  him,  and  not  as  if  he 
were  a  mere  abstraction  of  social  inferiority. 
In  the  service  of  these  bright  lovable  people 
Stephen  forgot  his  heartaches.  He  adored 
their  little  jokes  and  the  exchange  of  playful 
repartee  between  the  sisters,  and  when  they 
smiled  at  him  a  "good-morning,"  the  world 
grew  fresh  and  young  again  and  the  poor  lad 
laid  aside  his  burden  of  racial  responsibilities  as 
long  as  they  remained  in  the  dining-room. 

They  came  to  stay  only  two  weeks,  but  in 
that  short  time  he  learned  all  their  individual 
preferences.  When  the  elder  daughter  asked 
him  what  he  intended  to  do  on  leaving  the 
hotel  (possibly  with  a  situation  in  view  for 
him  in  her  own  household)  Stephen  told  her 
about  his  school  and  what  had  brought  him  to 
the  North.  He  was  delighted  to  show  her  a 
photograph  of  the  new  building.  Finally  he 
opened  his  heart  and  related  his  experience 
with  the  Ormsby  family.  His  story  moved 
Miss  Longacre  to  deep  interest,  and  when  she 


Stephen  the  Black  233 

left  the  room  she  carried  with  her  the  photo 
graph  and  circulars. 

That  evening  the  young  black  was  invited  to 
address  an  informal  gathering  in  the  hotel 
parlor  on  the  subject  of  his  "Academy." 
There  was  printed  on  his  mind  a  picture  of 
those  degraded,  ignorant  field-hands  leaving 
their  field  tasks  at  sunset  to  toil  patiently  over 
the  building  of  the  school  by  twilight  or 
moonlight  in  the  hope  of  educating  their  chil 
dren  and  advancing  their  race — and  somehow 
his  stumbling  tongue  found  words  to  paint 
this  picture  on  the  minds  of  his  listeners. 

A  few  days  later,  when  the  Longacre  family 
made  ready  to  depart,  the  old  Quaker  laid  in 
his  hand  a  check  for  two  hundred  dollars. 
He  offered  further  to  advise  Stephen  from 
time  to  time  on  financial  matters. 

"We're  not  without  friends  after  all!"  said 
Stephen  in  a  low  voice  to  Howards  as  he 
passed  him  with  a  heavy  tray  in  his  hands, 
"our  race  is  going  to  march  on.  All  we  need 
is  patience! " 

"I'm  in  luck  too,"  said  the  head-waiter,  af- 


234  Stephen  the  Black 

terward,  when  they  were  alone.  "  Here  is  my 
appointment  as  professor  of  History  and  Social 
Science.  1  applied  several  months  ago  and 
was  beginning  to  lose  hope."  He  showed 
Stephen  a  letter  from  the  president  of  a  well- 
known  colored  "  University," — wherein  one 
might  receive  a  high-school  education  com 
bined  with  a  divinity  student's  training.  It 
was  a  day  of  great  rejoicing, 

Howards  left  a  week  later  and  Stephen  took 
his  place  until  fall.  When  he  left  for  the 
.South,  he  had  earned  more  than  enough  to 
pay  his  traveling  expenses,  and  he  carried  with 
him  a  modest  bank  account  on  behalf  of  his 
school,  sufficient  to  pay  its  running  expenses 
for  several  months. 

He  found  there  had  been  great  changes 
during  his  absence.  Colonel  Aikens'  wife 
had  died;  the  colonel  had  gone  abroad  and 
Ralph  was  in  charge  of  the  estate.  He  was 
living  in  the  old  manor-house.  Theresa  had 
returned  from  the  Normal  School  and  was  at 
home  with  her  grandfather. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

LEMUEL  and  his  grandfather  celebrated  The 
resa's  return  by  building  another  room  to 
their  little  cabin.  It  was  a  new  Theresa  who 
now  appeared  in  the  humble  doorway.  She 
reminded  Ralph  Aikens  of  an  exquisite  flower 
waiting  to  be  plucked  from  its  mean  sur 
roundings,  and  placed  in  a  gorgeous  vase  for 
the  admiration  of  men.  The  squalid  homeli 
ness  of  the  negro's  cabin  made  him  shudder 
when  he  passed  by,  and  saw  Theresa  tying  up 
vines  over  the  doorway,  weeding  flower-beds,, 
and  otherwise  occupying  herself  in  adorning  her 
home.  He  passed  by  very  often  and  found 
many  an  excuse  for  stopping  to  exchange  a 
few  words  with  her,  but  they  were  brief  in 
terviews,  for  Theresa  found  something  usually 
that  demanded  her  attention  indoors. 

Equally  fleeting  were  the  glimpses  which 
Stephen  caught  of  his  young  wife.  He  salute4 
335 


236  Stephen  the  Black 

her  with  great  reverence  when  he  called,  but 
his  business  was  always  with  Wesley,  with 
whom  he  discussed  at  length  the  affairs  of  the 
school. 

Later  in  the  season  Isabel  arrived  from  the 
Normal  School  and  assisted  Stephen  in  teach 
ing.  She  stayed  at  the  Anderson  cabin  and 
shared  Theresa's  room.  At  her  suggestion 
Theresa  was  engaged  to  teach  the  younger 
scholars,  and  this  honor  filled  the  girl  with  de 
light.  At  the  school  she  saw  more  of  Stephen, 
but  their  intercourse  was  formal,  and  a 
painful  shyness  seemed  to  prevent  his  refer 
ring  to  their  unfortunate  marriage.  He  felt 
weighted  to  the  earth  with  the  burdens  of  his 
race,  and  committed  to  a  life  of  economy  and 
self-sacrifice.  Although  he  had  often  dreamed 
of  the  sweetness  of  having  Theresa  share 
that  life  with  him,  he  now  pushed  the  thought 
away  as  presumptuous.  He  told  himself  that 
his  marriage  was  a  mistake;  that  missionaries 
should  be  celibates.  Dependent  as  they  were 
on  philanthropy  for  means  to  continue  their 
costly  experiments,  what  right  had  they  to 


Stephen  the  Black  237 

add  the  support  of  a  family  to  the  heavy  bur 
den  of  their  indebtedness  ?  By  such  argu 
ments  Stephen  sought  to  deaden  his  affec 
tions,  and  prepare  himself  to  live  his  life  with 
out  Theresa.  But  there  were  times  when  his 
heart  passionately  rebelled  and  cried  out  for 
the  love  of  her  whom  he  had  saved,  and  who 
shared,  as  he  believed,  the  blood  of  his  race, 
and  the  dark  problems  of  its  history. 

At  the  suggestion  of  Mr.  Longacre,  Stephen 
and  Wesley  Anderson  organized  an  Agricul 
tural  Society  to  study  improved  methods  of 
farming.  The  association  held  frequent  meet 
ings  in  the  schoolhouse  and  great  projects 
were  under  discussion  from  time  to  time. 
The  most  important  of  these  was  a  plan  to 
purchase  land  which  was  to  be  sold  to  the 
members  in  small  lots,  and  paid  for  gradually, 
so  that  in  time  they  might  own  their  own 
homes.  There  was  great  enthusiasm  over  the 
project.  Mr.  Longacre  became  their  largest 
stockholder  and  sent  them  valuable  advice  on 
the  subject. 

But  when  the  officers  of    the  association 


138  Stephen  the  BUck 

made  known  their  desire  to  purchase  land,  not 
an  acre  was  found  for  sale  in  any  direction. 
So  the  tenants  were  forced  to  remain  tenants 
still,  and  to  continue  to  work  under  the  ob 
jectionable  mortgage  system.  This  kept  them 
;poor  and  at  the  mercy  of  their  landlords.  The 
.school  was  flourishing  as  far  as  numbers  were 
'Concerned,  but  like  everything  else  in  the 
South,  it  ran  on  the  credit  system  and  it 
seemed  impossible  to  keep  it  out  of  debt. 

The  hope  of  buying  land  did  not  die  out 
however  in  Stephen's  mind.  The  money  that 
was  subscribed  for  the  purpose  was  held  in 
tact,  and  he  hoped  that  sooner  or  later  some 
planter  would  relent  or  would  yield  to  ne 
cessity  and  part  with  a  small  portion  of  land 
at  the  high  price  the  association  was  willing 
to  pay  for  it.  It  was  known  that  several  were 
anxious  to  sell  to  buyers  of  the  right  com 
plexion. 

Finally  the  association  authorized  a  white 
lawyer  from  Perryville  to  buy  for  them  on  a 
handsome  commission.  There  seemed  to  be 
a  fair  prospect  that  this  would  succeed.  One 


Stephen  the  Black 

of  the  planters  consented  at  last  to  part  with 
seventy-five  acres.  The  lawyer  drew  up  the 
deeds  of  purchase  and  all  that  was  wanting 
was  the  signature  of  the  present  owner. 

Stephen,  Wesley  Anderson  and  the  Rever 
end  Mr.  Simpson  went  to  the  lawyer's  office 
bearing  a  tightly  rolled  document  proudly  in 
their  hands.  But  the  lawyer  was  away  from 
home.  His  agent  met  them  on  the  threshold 
and  explained  civilly  that  young  Mr.  Aikens 
had  been  over  the  day  before  and  had  bought 
the  property  at  a  higher  figure  than  the  as 
sociation  offered.  Sorrowfully  the  trio  re 
turned  to  their  cabins,  and  later  they  paid  the 
treacherous  lawyer  a  neat  little  sum  for  his 
services,  though  confident  that  he  had  sold 
out  their  interests  to  Colonel  Aikens.  Alto 
gether  it  was  a  profitable  little  transaction  for 
the  Perryville  lawyer,  and  a  rather  costly  one 
for  young  Aikens. 

Not  long  after  this,  Stephen  passed  by  the 
Anderson  cabin  and  saw  Theresa  standing  by 
her  flower-bed.  Close  beside  her  stood  Ralph 
holding  his  black  horse  by  the  bridle.  They 


240  Stephen  the  Black 

remained  in  conversation  for  some  time,  as 
Stephen  returning  later  from  his  errand  found 
him  still  standing  there.  His  heart  sank  with 
gloomy  forebodings  of  evil.  Ralph  had  be 
come  to  him  a  bird  of  evil  omen,  a  creature 
fraught  with  iniquitous  purposes,  and  he 
knew  that  his  opportunities  for  inflicting  in 
jury  on  the  helpless  were  many  and  varied. 
The  Andersons  were  wholly  within  his  power 
as  far  as  their  worldly  interests  were  concerned. 
They  could  be  dispossessed  of  all  they  had  at 
his  word. 

But  the  fierce  pain  in  Stephen's  heart  was  not 
due  wholly  to  his  dread  of  Ralph's  presumably 
iniquitous  purposes.  He  was  conscious  again 
and  again  of  a  passionate  longing  to  claim 
Theresa  as  his  wife — and  this  was  followed 
always  by  a  sickening  sense  of  incapacity  and 
defeat.  Theresa  sitting  on  the  low  steps  of 
her  grandfather's  cabin,  seemed  farther  from 
him  than  if  she  were  at  the  Normal  School. 
All  the  grace  and  culture  that  had  come  to  her 
through  his  arduous  efforts  only  placed  her 
further  beyond  his  reach.  The  nearer  she 


Stephen  the  Black  241 

approached  the  lovely  standards  of  accom 
plished  white  womanhood,  the  more  did 
Stephen  shrink  under  the  degradation  of  his 
dark  skin  and  deem  himself  unworthy  even 
to  touch  her  hand.  He  tried  to  deaden  the 
soreness  of  his  heart  in  work,  and  rushed  to 
his  task  with  a  determination  to  drive  senti 
ment  out  of  his  life. 

Ralph  had  called,  however,  on  what  was 
meant  to  be  a  kindly  errand.  He  had  come  to 
give  Theresa  a  word  of  warning  concerning 
the  school.  She  knew  of  course  the  attitude 
of  the  poor  whites  of  that  neighborhood. 
The  new  teacher  had  excited  their  displeasure 
by  his  efforts  to  buy  land  for  the  colored 
people.  Ralph  said  any  planter  who  would 
sell  land  to  the  association  would  run  the  risk 
of  having  his  house  burned  or  his  horses 
maimed;  the  feeling  on  the  subject  was 
strong.  He  thought  the  association  made  a 
mistake  in  holding  so  many  meetings  in  the 
building.  It  made  the  whites  suspicious. 
They  feared  the  negroes  were  plotting  against 
them. 


242  Stephen  the  Black 

"I  dare  say  everything  they  do  is  most 
commendable,"  said  Ralph,  "but  you  know 
you  can't  reason  with  these  '  crackers '  on  that 
subject.  I  wish  you  were  not  teaching  in  the 
school,  Theresa.  They  may  attack  this  ambi 
tious  pedagogue  some  day, — I  wish  you  would 
let  me  find  you  a  position  in  one  of  the  city 
schools.  I  don't  like  the  idea  of  your  expos 
ing  yourself  to  danger." 

"I  don't  believe  there  is  any  danger  for 
me,"  answered  she,  "and  besides  I  can't 
leave, — I  must  keep  the  little  pickaninnies 
out  of  mischief  while  Stephen  and  Miss  Isa 
bel  are  teaching  the  older  children.  I'm  not 
afraid,  but  I'll  tell  Stephen  what  you  say.  I 
hope — oh,  I  hope  there  isn't  going  to  be  any 
trouble!"  She  looked  at  him  anxiously. 
"Can't  you  use  your  influence  to  persuade 
them  that  poor  Stephen  means  no  harm?" 

"I  don't  know,"  answered  Ralph,  looking 
away.  He  was  annoyed  at  the  way  Theresa 
identified  herself  with  the  colored  population, 
and  he  was  distinctly  aware  that  he  had  riot 
used  his  influence  so  far  in  any  such  direction. 


Stephen  the  Black  243 

"You  could  do  a  great  deal  for  my  people 
if  you  would  give  them  just  a  little  encour 
agement,"  added  Theresa,  in  a  low  voice. 
Ralph,  looking  at  her,  noticed  that  her  eyes 
were  suffused,  and  her  cheek  was  flushed  as 
she  looked  sorrowfully  across  the  fields. 

"I  wish  you  wouldn't  concern  yourself  so 
much  about  their  affairs,"  he  said,  in  a  vexed 
tone.  "  It  never  comes  to  any  good.  It  only 
makes  trouble  between  the  races.  I  reckon 
we  shall  have  a  race  war  down  here  some 
day,  and  a  lot  of  them  will  be  killed! " 

Theresa  stared  at  him  with  horror-stricken 
eyes. 

"Wouldn't  you  use  your  influence  to  pre 
vent  that?" 

"  Certainly  I  should,"  he  answered,  emphat 
ically  but  crossly.  "I  should  do  all  in  my 
power  to  prevent  it.  I've  reorganized  the 
Perryville  Volunteers,  and  if  I  see  any  sign 
of  trouble  I'll  telephone  for  them  right  away. 
I  promise  you  to  look  after  that." 

"And  they  would  protect  my  people,  too, 
would  they  ?"  she  asked,  anxiously. 


244  Stephen  the  Black 

41  Why  always  '  your  people '  ?  Of  course — 
I  shall  have  no  rioting  and  bloodshed  in  this 
neighborhood,  I  promise  you.  But  it  distresses 
me  to  see  you  grieving  and  worrying  yourself 
to  death  over  these  creatures, — in  every  way 
your  inferiors.  What  has  become  of  the  white 
blood  you  used  to  be  so  proud  of?" 

"  I  have  no  white  blood  that  counts — it 
is  dishonest  blood,"  said  Theresa,  looking 
down,  while  the  blood  she  disclaimed  dyed 
her  cheeks  scarlet.  Ralph  raised  his  hand  im 
petuously. 

"  Some  day  you  will  think  differently, — and 
you  will  think  better  of  me,  I  hope.  I  have 
changed  my  ideas  on  many  subjects,— every 
thing  in  life  looks  different  to  me  now.  I 
have  a  right  to  my  own  happiness  and  so 
have  you.  I  can't  say  any  more  now —  But 
in  the  North,  Theresa " 

"North  or  South,— does  it  make  any  dif 
ference  ?  I  have  chosen  my  lot,  Mr.  Aikens, 
and  I  must  abide  by  it.  God  chose  yours  for 
you  when  He  made  you  white.  The  races 


Stephen  the  Black  245 

were  meant  to  be  separate — I  believe  that — I 
must  believe  it.     Ah— let  me  go! " 

She  tore  herself  away  and  rushed  into  the 
cabin.  Shutting  the  door  hastily  she  sank 
into  a  chair  and  buried  her  face  in  her  hands. 
In  a  few  minutes  she  arose  with  a  sigh, 
and  dried  her  eyes.  Then  seeing  that  it  was 
growing  late,  she  set  to  work  to  build  a  wood 
fire  in  the  outer  cabin,  for  it  was  nearly  time 
for  supper,  and  her  grandfather  and  Lemuel 
would  soon  be  in  from  the  fields. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THERESA  discovered  the  next  day  that  the 
blacks  were  already  aware  of  the  agitation 
among  the  poor  whites. 

The  mulatto  called  Lou  Lemons,  having 
heard  that  a  disturbance  was  brewing  in  the 
neighborhood,  had  left  Perryville  and  was  now 
preparing  to  lead  the  blacks  to  victory.  Of  all 
excitements  he  loved  a  race  war  best.  The 
mere  fact  of  his  arrival  lent  a  bitter  animosity 
to  the  brooding  discontent  of  the  white  farm 
ers.  Stephen  went  to  the  belligerent  Lem 
ons  and  begged  him  to  leave  the  neighbor 
hood.  He  was  sure  that  his  presence  was 
doing  more  harm  than  good;  but  Lou  replied 
that  he  had  as  good  a  right  to  stay  there  as 
Stephen,  and  he  defied  him  to  point  to  any  act 
or  word  of  his  which  had  increased  the  agita 
tion. 

One  fact,  however,  soon  became  apparent, 
246 


Stephen  the  Black  247 

and  caused  Stephen  grave  alarm;  the  school 
was  guarded  every  night  by  a  band  of  armed 
negroes,  and  there  was  further  evidence  that 
these  men  were  secretly  drilling  in  the  use  of 
fire-arms,  and  were  familiar  with  watch 
words,  signals  and  muster  calls,  all  of  which 
were  passed  from  one  to  the  other  in  secrecy. 

Stephen  called  a  number  of  the  field-hands 
together  and  told  them  firmly  that  he  would 
give  up  the  school  if  they  continued  to  patrol 
it;  that  it  was  the  height  of  folly  to  tempt  the 
whites  in  this  manner  to  an  attack;  that  he 
would  rather  take  steps  to  preserve  the  peace 
than  to  save  his  life  if  it  were  in  danger,  which 
he  did  not  believe.  The  whites  of  the  South 
had  ceased  long  since  to  burn  schoolhouses. 
They  were  reconciled  to  the  sight  of  the  "  edi- 
cated  nigger,"  and  the  better  class  were  even 
proud  of  the  colored  schools,  and  would  cer 
tainly  protect  him  if  he  called  upon  them  for 
aid. 

After  an  exciting  debate,  they  agreed  to  cease 
the  patrol  on  condition  that  a  dozen  of  them 
should  be  permitted  to  sleep  in  the  building 


248  Stephen  the  Black 

at  night,  to  which  Stephen  reluctantly  con 
sented.  They  came  late,  slept  on  the  floor 
with  a  blanket  apiece  to  cover  them,  and  de 
parted  in  the  early  morning  to  work  in  the  fields. 
He  hoped  fervently  that  the  presence  of  the 
night  guard  was  not  known  to  his  white 
neighbors.  At  any  rate  no  attack  was  made 
on  the  building,  and  as  several  weeks  passed 
without  any  disturbance,  he  had  reason  to  be 
lieve  that  the  excitement  was  dying  out. 

Ralph  Aikens  called  again  one  day  at  the 
Anderson  cabin  to  see  Theresa.  He  had  a 
piece  of  news  for  her,  but  he  found  only  Isabel 
at  home.  Theresa,  she  told  him,  was  visiting 
some  of  the  cabins.  She  had  a  class  of  grown 
women  with  whom  she  talked  in  the  afternoon 
— about  domestic  matters. 

Ralph  looked  his  dissatisfaction. 

"Some  of  our  old  women  say  Theresa  has  a 
black  heart  under  her  white  skin,"  observed 
Isabel,  with  a  wicked  smile. 

"Why  do  you  repeat  such  nonsense  ?"  cried 
Ralph,  in  great  vexation.  "Tell  me,  why  is 
she  always  away  when  I  want  to  see  her  ?  " 


Stephen  the  Black  249 

"  We  have  our  work  to  do  for  our  people, — 
we  are  very  busy  always,"  said  Isabel,  coldly. 
Ralph  paused  and  looked  at  her  critically. 

"  Whom  do  you  mean  by  '  our  people '  ?  It 
must  be  that  you  love  black  folks  better  than 
white." 

"I  do,"  said  Isabel,  calmly. 

"No  law  but  your  own  choice  keeps  you 
from  association  with  the  whites.  Our  laws 
recognize  a  limit  to  the  transmission  of  negro 
blood  through  a  remote  inheritance,  and  you 
have  certainly  passed  that  limit.  You  and 
Theresa  don't  need  to  hug  to  yourselves  their 
disqualifications." 

"1  have  a  mother  and  two  sisters — darker. 
Would  you  enter  paradise  if  you  had  to  leave 
all  whom  you  love  behind  ?" 

"Paradise!" — he  exclaimed  in  a  low  voice, 
while  he  looked  at  her  with  brilliant  eyes, — 
"  Paradise  is  any  spot  in  the  world  where  a 
man  can  live  in  wedlock,— honorable  wedlock — 
mind  you — with  the  woman  he  loves,  whether 
it's  North,  South,  East  or  West."  He  looked 
away  after  making  this  irrelevant  statement, 


250  Stephen  the  Black 

and  gazed  toward  the  North  with  a  rapt  ex 
pression  as  if  his  heart  were  full  of  a  secret 

joy- 
There  was  silence  for  a  moment.     Isabel 
looked   at  him  fixedly  while  her  expression 
softened. 

"  My  poor  little  friend! "  she  exclaimed.  He 
knew  that  she  referred  to  Theresa. 

"  I  hope  you  will  repeat  my  exact  words  to 
her,"  continued  the  pale  young  man  in  a  whis 
per.  "  She  flies  from  me  as  if  she  had  reason 
to  dread  me.  I  want  her  to  know  my  unal 
terable  determination, — to  give  up  home,  so 
cial  ties,  everything,  for  her  sake.  I  couldn't 
have  done  it  in  my  mother's  lifetime, — but 
now  I  am  my  own  master.  I  want  her  to 
know  the  exalted  respect  I  have  for  her. 
Mind  you,  I  said  '  honorable  wedlock' — you 
won't  forget  that  ?  " 

"I  shall  not,"  said  Isabel,  looking  also  pale 
and  solemn,  and  very  ill  at  ease.  The  secret 
of  Theresa's  marriage  was  not  hers  to  impart 
and  it  weighed  heavily  on  her  conscience  at 
that  moment. 


Stephen  the  Black  251 

Ralph  soon  afterward  took  his  departure, 
but  not  before  he  had  communicated  the 
news  which  had  been  his  excuse  for  calling. 
Dreadful  to  relate — he  said,  mockingly — a 
charge  of  theft  had  been  brought  against  the 
demagogue  schoolmaster  by  a  white  woman 
known  as  Sallie  Willoughby  who  lived  near 
Thomas'  Mills.  It  was  said  that  she  had 
sworn  out  a  warrant  for  his  arrest. 

Isabel  repeated  to  Theresa  her  conversation 
with  Ralph  as  she  had  promised.  The  girl  said 
nothing  in  reply.  She  turned  away  quickly 
to  hide  her  emotion,  and  Isabel  did  not  refer 
to  the  subject  again  in  her  presence.  She  re 
peated  it  also  to  Stephen,  and  told  him  of 
Sallie  Willoughby's  charge  of  theft. 

"That  settles  it,"  was  his  only  comment 
—he  was  not  referring  to  Sallie  Willoughby. 
He  left  the  schoolroom  hastily  and  Isabel 
heard  him  pacing  up  and  down  the  hall-way 
upstairs.  He  tried  to  make  himself  believe 
that  he  rejoiced  over  the  happy  fate  that  was 
now  to  be  Theresa's.  The  burden  of  a  de 
graded  race  was  to  be  lifted  from  her  young 


252  Stephen  the  Black 

shoulders — for  the  matter  of  a  divorce  could 
be  easily  arranged  by  the  lawyers.  It  could 
be  easily  proved  that  the  marriage  had  been 
brought  about  by  compulsion,  in  which  he 
had  exercised  unfairly  the  authority  of  a 
teacher.  He  would  rejoice,  he  would  rejoice 
— but  it  was  with  haggard  cheek  and  hollow 
eye. 

He  now  wanted  to  break  the  formal  tie  which 
bound  Theresa  to  him  as  quickly  as  possible,  and 
he  resolved  to  consult  a  Perryville  lawyer  the 
following  day.  Before  he  had  time  to  take  this 
step,  he  was  informed  that  the  warrant  had  al 
ready  been  issued  for  his  arrest,  and  he  would 
not  be  permitted  to  leave  the  neighborhood. 

Sallie  Willoughby  was  a  woman  of  doubtful 
character,  whose  husband  had  left  her  after  a 
career  of  illicit  whisky  distilling.  She  had 
sent  for  Stephen  a  few  days  before  to  dis 
cuss  with  him  some  repairs  to  her  house.  He 
had  called  unwillingly  and  found  two  rough- 
looking  characters  sitting  on  her  front  steps. 
They  told  him  to  go  to  the  kitchen  door, 
which  he  did,  and  was  admitted.  Mrs.  Wil- 


Stephen  the  Black  253 

loughby  showed  him  her  leaking  roof  and 
broken  windows,  and  as  he  started  to  leave 
she  uttered  a  shriek  and  ran  screaming  into 
the  yard.  The  two  men  appeared  from  the 
front  of  the  house  and  demanded  the  cause  of 
her  alarm.  Pointing  to  the  negro-teacher  the 
woman  cried  out  that  he  had  tried  to  rob  her 
of  her  savings.  The  men  rushed  at  Stephen 
who  would  have  fared  badly,  but  at  that  mo 
ment  half-a-dozen  field-hands  dashed  forward 
from  some  unknown  quarter  and  drove  the 
men  away  with  their  rakes  and  spades.  Un 
known  to  Stephen  they  had  silently  dropped 
their  work  in  the  field  and  followed  him  to  the 
house,  suspecting  that  danger  lurked  therein 
for  their  beloved  "perfessor." 

Theresa  and  Isabel,  at  the  suggestion  of 
Wesley  Anderson,  went  together  to  beseech 
Ralph  Aikens  to  offer  bail  for  Stephen's  ap 
pearance  at  court.  He  consented  amiably, 
and  the  two  women  left  his  house  delighted 
with  the  success  of  their  mission. 

A  few  days  later,  Stephen  and  Ralph,  Mrs. 
Willoughby  and  her  two  witnesses  met  at 


254  Stephen  the  Black 

the  office  of  the  magistrate.  After  the  hear 
ing,  Ralph  was  about  to  sign  his  name  to  the 
bond  when  the  magistrate  tapped  him  on  the 
arm  and  drew  him  aside. 

"Didn't  I  hear  you  say  that  this  was  a 
trumped-up  charge?"  he  whispered.  Ralph 
nodded. 

"  I  reckon  you  want  this  fixed  for  your  'com- 
modation,  eh  ?  I'll  name  a  big  fine  for  his  fail 
ing  to  keep  the  peace,  and  'stead  o'  his  bail- 
bond  you  offer  to  pay  the  fine,  provided  he'll 
work  out  the  amount  on  your  plantation. 
He's  a  steady  lookin'  fellow  and  you'll  git  a 
good  hand  for  nothing.  See  ?  " 

Ralph  swore  an  oath  of  rage  and  disgust. 

"  Finish  up  this  business  the  proper  way 
and  keep  your  tricks  to  yourself.  When  I 
want  a  man's  labor  I  pay  for  it." 

"  It's  done  often  enough,— and  it  lets  'em 
off  easy.  You  needn't  parade  your  virtue  in 
this  office.  I  know  what's  right  as  well  as 
you,  and  what's  within  the  law,  though  I 
ain't  no  d d  lawyer." 

Sullenly  he  led  the  way  back  to  the  front 


Stephen  the  Black  255" 

office  and  Ralph  signed  his  name  without 
deigning  to  glance  again  at  the  mortified 
official. 

Stephen  sat  on  the  bench  absorbed  in  pain 
ful  thoughts.  The  situation  was  full  of  hu 
miliation.  He  thanked  Ralph  Aikens  briefly 
and  with  a  kind  of  sternness  in  his  manner  as 
they  left  the  office.  Hatred  such  as  only  the 
Anglo-Saxon  can  feel  for  the  "barbarian" 
who  has  v/ronged  him,  filled  his  heart.  He 
remembered  that  the  planter's  son  had  circum 
vented  all  his  plans  for  the  improvement  of 
his  poor  people.  The  fact  that  Ralph  was  the 
leader  in  opposition  had  given  all  the  encour 
agement  needed  to  the  ignorant  whites.  In 
Stephen's  eyes  Ralph  was  the  barbarian— the 
savage. 

Young  Aikens,  however,  recognized  Stephen 
indifferently  as  the  negro  he  had  thrown  down 
the  stairway  in  Perryville.  He  recalled  the  in 
cident  without  the  slightest  ill-will. 

Wearily  Stephen  returned  to  the  school- 
house  and  threw  himself  on  a  little  single 
bed  in  a  loft  above  one  of  the  schoolrooms. 


256  Stephen  the  Black 

He  slept  heavily  for  some  hours.  When  he 
awoke  it  was  dark,  and  a  winter  moon  was 
shining  through  the  small  window. 

He  heard  some  one  knocking  outside.  Steps 
followed  as  if  one  of  the  blacks  who  were  on 
guard  below  had  gone  to  open  the  door.  A 
woman's  voice,  low,  hurried  and  agitated 
reached  his  ear.  Theresa  was  calling  him  by 
name. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

ISABEL  and  Theresa  had  been  visiting  some 
of  the  poorer  colored  folk  in  their  cabins.  It 
was  late  as  they  returned  through  the  moss- 
hung  woods  near  the  Aikens  plantation;  the 
sun  had  set,  and  gloomy  shadows  were  gath 
ering  below  the  trees. 

They  heard  voices  near  by,  and  stopped  to 
listen.  To  the  right,  beyond  a  thick  clump  of 
bushes,  there  was  a  hut  occupied  by  a  shiftless 
white  family.  It  was  from  this  direction  that 
the  voices  came;  they  were,  the  tones  of  men 
in  passionate  excitement.  Isabel  pushed  her 
way  a  short  distance  into  the  underbrush,  and 
stood  still  to  listen.  Between  twigs,  ever 
greens  and  trunks  of  trees  she  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  hut  now  encircled  by  a  crowd 
of  men.  The  sight  made  her  heart  stand  still, 
for  every  one  of  them  carried  a  musket. 
Their  hoarse,  angry  voices,  their  threats  and 


258  Stephen  the  Black 

oaths  burst  forth  into  howls  of  rage,  reminding 
her  of  a  pack  of  starving  wolves  assembled  on 
a  winter's  night  to  bay  at  the  moon  in  the 
absence  of  the  prey  for  which  their  stomachs 
hungered. 

The  wind  brought  to  her  ear  several  words 
which  revealed  the  purpose  of  the  meeting. 
They  were  laying  plans  to  surprise  the  school 
building  and  capture  the  negro  teacher.  His 
temporary  release  from  custody  until  the  day 
of  his  trial  they  chose  to  regard  as  a  miscar 
riage  of  justice. 

Grievous  reports  were  maddening  them. 
Although  the  few  blacks  who  knew  of 
Theresa's  marriage  had  faithfully  kept  the 
secret,  yet  some  gossip  concerning  Stephen's 
interest  in  her  was  already  afloat.  Again, 
there  had  come  to  the  ears  of  these  white  men 
a  whisper  that  young  Aikens  had  noticed  and 
admired  the  fair  girl, — and  then  came  the 
story  of  Stephen's  "insult"  to  young  Aikens 
and  of  the  attempted  lynching  at  Perryville. 
Ah!  he  had  escaped  his  just  deserts  that  time, 
— the  black  rascal— and  as  a  result,  he  was  now 


Stephen  the  Black  259 

engaged  in  decoying  the  attractive  maid  be 
yond  the  reach  of  Ralph's  influence.  He  was 
filling  the  minds  of  ignorant  field-hands  with 
ridiculous  notions  that  might  enable  them 
some  day  to  compete  with  white  men.  He 
was  scheming  for  negro  domination — paying 
no  attention  when  commanded  to  leave  the 
neighborhood.  He  was  a  vile  fellow — unfit 
for  the  position  of  schoolmaster;  respectable 
" nigger"  teachers  were  all  right  in  their  way, 
but  not  this  sort.  He  was  dishonest  like  all 
"niggers,"  of  course;  was  he  not  already  ac 
cused  of  theft  ? 

And  was  it  only  theft  that  he  was  guilty  of  ? 
Had  he  not  been  seen  to  fix  his  eyes  on  Mrs; 
Willoughby  herself — with  heaven  knows 
what  villainy  in  his  thoughts  ?  And  yet  the 
law  had  refused  to  hold  fast  this  bold  schemer 
— this  black  plotter  against  the  honor  of  white 
womanhood!  Ah!  they  would  protect  the 
white  womanhood  of  the  South,  with  their 
lives  if  need  be, — yes,  with  their  lives — their 
lives! 

They  would  take  the  law  into  their  own 


260  Stephen  the  Black 

hands;  it  was  evident  that  Ralph  Aikens  knew 
not  the  danger  of  turning  loose  this  pretence 
of  a  pedagogue — why,  in  another  day,  he 
might  commit  some  other  awful  crime  and 
disappear — and  the  law  would  never  be  able 
to  lay  its  hands  on  him ! 

This  was  the  line  if  not  the  exact  language 
of  their  arguments.  It  was  unanswerable— if 
all  the  premises  are  admitted,— and  there  was 
none  to  dispute  them.  The  "honor  of  white 
womanhood"  finished  the  business;  it  would 
justify  them  in  the  eyes  of  the  whole  country. 

Isabel  listened  in  horror,  and  then  drew 
back  as  quietly  as  possible,  hoping  that  the 
cracking  of  dry  branches  and  the  rustling  of 
her  skirts  would  not  reveal  her  presence  to  the 
infuriated  band.  As  she  regained  the  road, 
she  clutched  Theresa's  arm. 

"They're  getting  ready  for  a  lynching — 
What  shall  we  do  ?  " 

"  Let's  run  to  Mr.  Aikens'  house.  He  prom 
ised  to  stop  them,— he  said  he  wouldn't  allow 
bloodshed.  Oh,  run,  run — Miss  Isabel,  we 
must  be  quick! " 


Stephen  the  Black  261 

Clasping  hands  the  two  women  fled  through 
the  woods  like  frightened  deer.  They  did  not 
take  time  to  speak;  hardly  in  fact  did  they 
breathe.  Their  feet  sped  over  the  ground 
with  extraordinary  swiftness,  but  rapidly  as 
they  ran,  the  minutes  seemed  like  hours  before 
they  came  in  sight  of  Colonel  Aikens'  house. 
Isabel  stopped  suddenly  with  her  hand  pressed 
to  her  side. 

"I  can  go  no  further—"  she  panted.  "It 
kills  me  to  run  like  this." 

"Do  you  go  and  warn  Lemuel  and 
grandpa,"  said  Theresa,  breathlessly,  "and  I 
will  see  Mr.  Aikens.  I  can  run  as  if  I  had 
wings,"  and  on  she  flew  alone. 

Ralph  was  on  the  porch  as  she  approached 
and  he  hastened  to  meet  her.  Theresa  told 
him  in  a  few  words  what  they  had  seen  and 
heard  in  the  woods. 

"You  promised — you  promised!"  she 
panted,  imploringly. 

"I  know  all  about  their  plans,"  he  an 
swered,  "and  I've  telephoned  for  the  Volun 
teers.  Six  of  the  men  have  consented  to  help 


264  Stephen  the  Black 

ment — understanding— between  you  and  this 
Stephen?" 

"No — no! "  she  cried,  with  her  hand  on  her 
breast.  Ah,  if  she  but  dared  tell  him  the 
truth!  But  would  he  then  save  Stephen  ? 

"He  is  nothing  to  you?    Swear  it!" 

"Nothing — he  is  nothing  to  me."  Her 
voice  shook, — it  rang  in  her  ears  like  a  false 
note.  Had  she  lied?  No,  she  would  not  lie! 
She  would  clear  herself — and  she  would  save 
Stephen.  She  drew  back  and  straightened  up 
proudly  on  the  horse's  back. 

"  I  know  nothing  of  love, — nothing— except 
love  for  my  race.  You  can't  understand  that 
— you  never  will— but  it  is  a  passion  with  me 
as  deep  as  the  sea — as  holy  as  the  Church  of 
God, — far  deeper  and  holier  than  a  man's  love! 
Stephen  can  raise  my  people;  so  I  respect — 
and  esteem  him — and  his  life  is  valuable  to  me 
on  that  account — but  beyond  that,  he  is  like  a 
complete  stranger.  What  do  I  care  for  the 
stranger  within  your  gates  whom  I  have  not 
seen  ?  That  is  how  much  I  care  for  Stephen 
— how  much  I  care  for  any  man's  love!  "  Her 


Stephen  the  Black  265 

head  was  high  but  the  hand  she  had  lifted  fell 
softly  on  the  horse's  neck.  Ralph  looked  at 
her  narrowly. 

"Or  mine  either!"  he  added,  and  his  head 
drooped.  He  rubbed  his  cheek  against  the 
arched  neck  of  the  horse.  Presently  he  raised 
his  head,  his  dark  blue  eyes  full  of  a  tender 
wistfulness, — and  again  he  laid  hold  of  her 
hand. 

"I  am  going  into  danger  for  your  sake — to 
please  you.  I  am  risking  my  reputation — my 
popularity,  I  mean,  and  I  have  a  lot  of  friends 
— to  gratify  a  whim  of  yours — to  chase  away 
your  foolish  fears  for  this  pedagogue.  I  claim 
a  reward— kiss  me,  Theresa,— I  know  you 
don't  love  me,  so  I  won't  think  anything  of  it 
— kiss  me,  sweetheart." 

But  Theresa  turned  her  face  to  the  sky  and 
addressed  the  unseen  stars. 

"You  don't  believe  what  I  say, — you  don't 
believe  that  my  heart  has  only  one  passion  ?  I 
am  not  made  for  love,  I  have  a  'mission,'  and 
when  I  think  of  it  I  could  die  for  it!  Yes,— I 
think  I  am  nothing  but  a  spirit — a  ghost — and 


266  Stephen  the  Black 

no  woman !  "  Her  voice  fell  coldly  sweet  on 
the  evening  air,  as  if  it  came  down  from  a 
great  height. 

"No — you  are  no  woman — you  are  a  kind 
of  Joan  of  Arc  to-night.  Be  a  little  human 
— be  kind!  "  he  entreated,  "I  will  not  let  you 
go  until  you  do!" 

She  looked  down  upon  him,  gravely, — and 
he  was  struck  with  the  pale  exaltation  that 
was  in  her  look. 

"God— you  are  beautiful!"  broke  from 
him  impulsively. 

She  hardly  seemed  to  hear  his  words— being 
absorbed  apparently  in  a  struggle  with  an 
other  self.  She  stretched  out  her  hand  until 
it  touched  his  forehead— and  he  stepped 
nearer. 

"Never  think  of  me  as  unkind,"  she  whis 
pered—her  eyelids  drooping  while  she  leaned 
slowly  toward  him— stooping  until  her  lips 
touched  his  forehead. 

"I  will  never  think  of  you  anyway  but 
one,"  he  answered,  brokenly— disappointed 
because  she  had  withdrawn  herself  so  quickly 


Stephen  the  Black  267 

to  gather  up  the  reins.  Already  she  had 
shaken  herself  free  of  him,  and  was  urging 
her  horse  forward. 

But  in  a  moment  she  stopped  and  turned  in 
her  saddle  with  a  beseeching  radiant  look  and 
outstretched  arms.  Ralph  sprang  quickly  to 
her  side.  Again  the  swaying  figure  bent  over 
him ;  if  he  had  not  supported  her,  she  would 
have  fallen  from  the  horse.  He  felt  her  trem 
bling  within  his  arms:  from  head  to  foot  she 
was  in  a  quiver  of  feeling — and  his  own  heart 
was  full  of  a  wild  joy. 

"Theresa — you  love  me!"  he  cried  in  ex 
ultation. 

"If  I  had  been  your  slave— -your  slave — " 
she  whispered  in  his  ear,  "I  would  have 
obeyed  your  commands  with  joy — but  now  it 
is  different— different!" 

"You  mean  in  the  good  old  days  ?"  he  an 
swered,  looking  at  her  in  wonder.  "  But  why 
should  it  be  so  different  now  ?  If  you  love 
me,  Theresa,  you  will  not  ask  me  to  sacrifice 
my  career — my  home— everything — will  you, 
dearest  ?  Love  will  bind  us  securely,  and  need 


268  Stephen  the  Black 

we  care  for  what  goes  on  outside  of  our  little 
world  ?  " 

"  I  am  going— to  Stephen ;  I  had  almost  for 
gotten — to  warn  him " 

She  spoke  abruptly — wildly — as  if  awaken 
ing  suddenly  from  a  dream.  She  dragged 
herself  from  him  in  passionate  haste,  absorbed 
apparently  in  a  new  thought.  Again  the 
horse  moved  forward,  leaving  Ralph  standing 
alone — the  wind  drying  his  cheek  that  had 
been  wet  with  her  tears. 

He  sprang  hastily  on  the  other  horse  which 
was  standing  near,  and  overtook  her.  As  they 
reached  the  crossroads,  Ralph  observed  briefly 
that  it  was  time  to  meet  the  train.  He  then 
left  her  with  repeated  injunctions  to  return 
promptly  as  soon  as  her  errand  was  accom 
plished.  He  realized  that  she  was  again  far 
removed  from  him. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Theresa  made  her  way  rather  slowly  after 
parting  from  Ralph,  her  "Joan  of  Arc"  air 
falling  from  her  like  a  cloak  as  soon  as  he  was 
out  of  sight.  She  clung  to  the  pommel — a 
woeful,  sobbing  creature, — an  image  of  sor 
row  on  horseback.  Through  her  grief  shone 
only  the  light  of  her  unperformed  mission. 
The  thought  of  it  gradually  calmed  her.  She 
was  timid  and  she  did  not  venture  to  urge  the 
high  stepping  animal  to  increase  his  speed. 
Once  he  came  to  a  full  stop  to  eye  a  broken- 
down  wagon  by  the  roadside,  his  ears  pointed 
forward  with  every  evidence  of  fear  and  dis 
trust.  Theresa  in  anticipation  of  a  sudden 
movement  that  might  dislodge  her  from  his 
back,  guided  him  with  a  trembling  hand  down 
a  left-hand  road  which  led  also  to  Thomas' 
Mills.  She  urged  him  to  walk  a  little  faster 
and  clung  to  his  mane  with  one  hand  and  to 
the  pommel  with  the  other.  If  Ralph  had 


270  Stephen  the  Black 

only  permitted  her  to  walk,  instead  of  seating 
her  upon  this  majestic  brute,  with  his  unac 
countable  suspicions  of  every  known  and 
familiar  object  on  the  road! 

It  was  late  when  she  reached  the  school- 
house  and  quite  dark  save  for  the  moonlight. 
She  slid  off  the  horse  and  knocked  hastily. 
Her  approach  had  been  observed  from  the 
window  and  the  door  was  opened  without 
delay. 

Theresa  told  the  men  who  gathered  quickly 
around  her  all  she  knew  of  the  mob's  inten 
tions,  and  of  Ralph's  precautions  and  promised 
aid.  Stephen  came  downstairs  and  listened 
quietly.  He  seemed  gratified  at  what  Ralph 
had  done  and  felt  sure  there  would  be  little 
trouble  after  the  arrival  of  the  Volunteers. 
Then  he  urged  Theresa  to  return  immediately 
to  the  cabin,  where  he  knew  she  would  be  safe 
under  the  protection  of  the  guard  Ralph  had 
promised  her.  He  preferred  she  should  ride 
back  as  she  came,  and  assured  her  the  horse 
must  be  safe  and  gentle  if  Ralph  had  placed 
her  upon  his  back. 


Stephen  the  Black  271 

Reluctantly  she  consented  to  be  lifted  back 
into  the  saddle. 

"It's  colder  riding  than  walking,"  she  com 
plained.  "  Lend  me  something  to  wrap  'round 
my  shoulders." 

Stephen  brought  out  a  light  overcoat  which 
he  buttoned  across  her  breast,  and  she  pulled 
down  her  knitted  woolen  cap  close  over  her 
ears.  Stephen  ran  beside  the  horse  a  little 
way  and  advised  Theresa  to  keep  him  go 
ing  at  a  brisk  pace.  She  assured  him  that 
she  had  now  lost  her  fear  of  the  animal 
and  could  make  her  way  alone.  He  left  her  at 
the  turn  of  the  road  in  obedience  to  her  ear 
nest  entreaties,  and  she  forsook  the  main  road 
for  a  short  cut  back  to  the  Aikens'  plantation. 
Bravely  she  jerked  the  reins  and  discovered  to 
her  satisfaction  that  the  swifter  motion  was 
not  at  all  disturbing  to  her  equilibrium.  The 
rocking  pace  of  the  horse  increased  into  a 
swinging  gallop  which  pleased  her.  She 
leaned  forward  to  pat  the  outstretched  neck, 
and  as  she  did  so  the  long  folds  of  the  light 
overcoat  swung  backward  in  the  wind.  The 


272  Stephen  the  Black 

iron-clad  hoofs  clattered  over  a  short  wooden 
bridge  and  after  horse  and  rider  had  passed,  a 
dozen  dark  forms  rose  to  their  feet  from  the 
gully  below. 

"That's  him — "  cried  several  voices,  and 
three  men  started  in  pursuit.  Suddenly  one  of 
them  stopped  and  leveled  his  rifle.  There  was 
a  sharp  report,  and  then  a  volley  of  shots  fol 
lowed  from  the  men  in  the  rear.  Some  of 
them  were  good  marksmen.  There  was  a 
scream  and  the  figure  on  the  galloping  horse 
swayed  from  side  to  side.  It  fell  heavily  to 
the  ground  as  the  frightened  horse  bounded 
forward. 

Meanwhile  from  the  opposite  direction  came 
a  band  of  horsemen  who  struck  spurs  to  their 
horses  and  dashed  forward  to  the  rescue. 
They  were  the  six  Perryville  Volunteers  with 
Ralph  Aikens  in  the  lead.  Three  of  them 
dropped  from  their  horses  beside  the  prostrate 
form  of  Theresa.  Ralph  raised  her  in  his  arms 
and  with  the  assistance  of  a  comrade  bore  her 
in  the  direction  of  the  schoolhouse. 

Ralph  gave  brief  directions  to  one  of  his 


Stephen  the  Black  273 

friends  to  go  for  a  doctor.  The  others  started 
in  pursuit  of  the  murderers,  who  were  now 
running  for  their  lives.  The  two  men  carrying 
between  them  the  motionless  form  of  the 
young  girl,  at  last  reached  the  schoolhouse. 
As  the  door  opened,  they  staggered  forward 
and  laid  her  on  a  low  bench  in  one  of  the  class 
rooms.  A  wail  of  grief  rose  from  the  negroes ; 
many  of  them  began  to  sob  aloud. 

Ralph  called  for  a  light  and  quickly  all  the 
lamps  belonging  to  the  school  were  brought 
into  the  room.  Ralph  and  Stephen  bent  over 
her  to  discover  the  extent  of  the  bullet  wounds. 
There  was  little  blood  flowing  to  guide  them. 

Ralph  sitting  on  the  bench  held  her  in  his 
arms.  Her  black  hair  was  spread  over  his 
knees;  her  dress  was  torn  open  from  the 
throat.  He  gazed  fixedly  into  the  white  face 
and  smoothed  her  hair  back  from  the  temples. 

Stephen  on  his  knees  vainly  attempted  to 
apply  a  bandage  to  her  shoulder.  Her  eyes 
were  closed  and  she  was  breathing  heavily. 
Ralph  tried  to  bring  her  back  to  conscious 
ness  by  calling  her  name. 


274  Stephen  the  Black 

The  eyes  of  the  young  girl  finally  opened 
wide  in  a  prolonged  stare  into  his  face.  He 
thought  she  failed  to  recognize  him,  and  in  a 
broken  voice  he  assured  her  that  it  was  he, 
Ralph  Aikens,  who  held  her  and  no  other.  Her 
lips  parted  and  she  turned  her  head  to  one  side. 
Her  eyes  were  seeking  Stephen's  face,  and  he 
bent  his  head  close  to  hers  as  she  seemed 
about  to  speak.  Her  lips  moved  with  a  great 
effort.  Then  two  words  reached  his  ear  dis 
tinctly: 

"Take  me."  Stephen  hesitated, — and  she 
spoke  again  more  clearly  than  before, — 

"Hold  me,  Stephen — in  your  arms."  He 
looked  inquiringly  at  Ralph  who  was  still 
mechanically  smoothing  her  forehead  with  his 
hand.  The  young  black  said  to  him  huskily,— 

"She  wants  me  to  hold  her." 

"Take  her,"  said  Ralph,  unsteadily.  Gently 
the  burden  was  shifted  from  one  pair  of  arms 
to  the  other;  the  young  white  man,  looking 
dazed  as  well  as  broken-hearted,  sat  down  on 
the  bench  and  folded  his  empty  arms.  The 
other  seemed  to  be  conscious  of  his  misery  and 


Stephen  the  Black  275 

troubled  by  it.  Raising  his  head  he  said  in  a 
hoarsely  voice: 

"She  is  my  wife."  Ralph  stared  vacantly, 
but  gave  no  sign  of  surprise.  He  continued 
to  sit  with  folded  arms  and  bent  head. 

A  convulsive  tremor  passed  over  Stephen's 
dark  face.  He  composed  his  countenance  by 
a  violent  effort  of  will  because  Theresa's  eyes 
were  looking  into  his. 

"  Poor  Stephen!  "  she  whispered,  distinctly. 
Then  her  eyes  closed.  He  spoke  her  name  in 
a  whisper, — adding  two  tender  words  to  it, — 
the  first  words  of  love  he  had  ever  spoken  to 
her.  Her  eyelids  quivered  faintly  as  if  she  un 
derstood  him. 

Ralph  Aikens  sprang  suddenly  to  his  feet 
and  knelt  beside  her. 

"You  have  turned  back  to  your  own  race, 
but  I  forgive  you,— Won't  you  speak  to  me, 
Theresa?  One  word?  Won't  you  look  at 
me  ?  You  belong  to  my  race  too,  can  you 
forget  that?" 

He  kissed  her  hands  now  wet  with  his  tears. 
There  was  no  answer. 


276  Stephen  the  Black 

Stephen  heard  without  heeding  this  passion 
ate  appeal.  The  words  reached  his  ears,  but 
not  his  intelligence.  His  whole  soul  was  con 
centrated  on  the  still  face  of  the  young  girl;  he 
was  watching,  waiting,  and  hoping  against 
hope  for  a  return  of  consciousness.  The  thrill 
of  exquisite  joy  that  shot  through  him  a  mo 
ment  ago  at  the  proof  of  her  loyalty  to  him, 
was  now  strangled  in  the  agonizing  thought 
that  she  had  passed  from  him  forever. 

A  pistol  shot  sounded  in  his  ear  and  he  felt 
a  stinging  blow  on  his  shoulder.  Some  one 
had  shot  him  through  the  window. 

"They  must  know  I  want  to  die  too,"  he 
thought.  "But  I  must  live  to  avenge  her 
death.  Dear  God — let  me  live  long  enough  to 
kill  one — one  only— it  is  all  I  ask " 

Soon  afterward  he  fainted,  and  then  he 
must  have  slept. 

Stephen  awoke  to  find  the  body  of  Theresa 
removed  from  his  arms  and  Ralph  bending 
over  him.  He  was  fastening  on  a  bandage 
securely. 


Stephen  the  Black  277 

"He  has  his  work  to  do — but  what  have 
I?"  Ralph  said,  half  aloud. 

Stephen  sat  up  and  passed  his  hand  across 
his  forehead — trying  to  recall  what  had  hap 
pened.  He  was  conscious  of  a  great  change 
within  him.  Resentment  had  died  out;  re 
venge  was  no  longer  what  he  thirsted  for. 
Some  strange  metamorphosis  had  taken  place. 
Had  the  white  soul  been  recalled  by  its  Maker 
and  another  sent  to  take  its  place  ?  Or  had  it 
merely  succumbed  to  its  environment  and 
changed  its  nature  ?  Could  such  a  surrender 
be  made  by  the  proud  Anglo-Saxon?  I  do 
not  know ;  but  neither  do  I  know  how  to  ac 
count  for  the  perfect  reconcilement  with  exist 
ing  conditions  of  which  Stephen  was  now  su 
premely  conscious.  He  knew  earth  could 
never  torture  him  again.  For  he  could  see  into 
the  distant  future;  he  could  behold  the 
gradual  evolution  of  his  race!  He  saw  him 
self  as  a  mere  speck  in  humanity's  line  of 
vision — now  made  joyous  in  the  track  of  a 
sunbeam  and  again  drifting  into  colorless 
tragedy  on  passing  out  of  that  golden  path- 


2j8  Stephen  the  Black 

way.  He  was  filled  with  a  far-seeing  pa 
tience.  He  answered  Ralph's  thought  with 
unexpected  gentleness. 

"  Yes,  I  have  my  work;  is  it  your  wish  that 
I  should  go  on  with  it  here — in  this  neighbor 
hood?" 

"You  shall  never  leave  me,"  said  Ralph, 
laying  his  hand  on  the  other's  well  shoulder, 
and  looking  at  him  with  deep  affection,  "but 
you  must  get  well  first— then,  we  shall  do  it 
together." 

"Together?"  repeated  Stephen, — smiling 
faintly,  not  at  Ralph  but  at  a  star  that  was 
visible  through  the  open  window.  It  was 
shining  straight  into  his  heart  with  a  message 
from  Theresa,  he  thought.  Slowly  it  faded 
into  the  dawn. 

On  the  day  of  the  funeral,  the  people  from 
far  and  near  traveled  in  a  constantly  moving 
procession  to  the  Anderson  cabin,  passing  in 
one  door  and  out  the  other  to  take  their  last 
look  at  the  dead  girl.  Among  those  who 
Stopped  for  a  brief  moment  to  gaze  awe- 


Stephen  the  Black  279 

struck  upon  the  unearthly  beauty  of  the 
young,  upturned  face,  were  several  shabbily- 
dressed  white  men.  Their  rough,  bearded 
faces  showed  a  shamefaced  distress,  if  not  ac 
tual  grief;  they  removed  their  slouched  hats, 
bowed  their  heads  and  stepped  softly,  casting 
sidelong,  uneasy  glances  around  the  cabin  and 
at  the  group  of  mourners — the  old  grandfather, 
the  young  brother  and  the  silent,  grief-stricken 
husband.  When  they  emerged  into  the  open 
air  and  sunlight,  they  brushed  their  hands 
across  their  eyes,  and,  without  exchanging  a 
word,  they  parted,  each  going  his  way 
alone. 

One  of  these  men  passed  into  the  woods,  and 
followed  with  bent  head,  the  narrow  path  that 
led  to  his  home.  It  was  a  hovel  no  better  than 
many  that  the  blacks  lived  in ;  the  interior  was 
not  as  homelike  or  as  neat  as  that  of  the 
Anderson  cabin;  no  flowering  vines  climbed 
above  the  doorway;  there  were  no  curtains  at 
the  windows,  and  no  garden  plot  in  front  of 
the  door.  A  desolate  squalor — more  horrible 
because  of  its  desolation  than  the  squalor  of 


280  Stephen  the  Black 

the  city  slums — reigned  supreme  over  the 
spot. 

The  man  stopped  when  he  came  in  sight  of  it, 
and  surveyed  it  grimly.  Turning  his  head,  he 
fixed  his  bloodshot  eyes  with  a  shudder,  upon  a 
moss-shrouded  tree,  from  which  dangled  a  long 
rope.  He  had  thrown  it  himself  over  the  bough 
only  a  few  days  before,  with  a  heart  full  of  mur 
derous  intent.  But  now  the  lust  to  kill  had 
gone  out  of  him ;  a  passion  of  remorse — a  new 
terrible  anguish,  as  unfamiliar  and  as  cruel  as 
death, — was  piercing  him  like  a  two-edged 
sword.  He  uttered  a  cry  like  that  of  a 
wounded  animal,  and  lifted  his  clinched  hands 
high  in  the  air. 

"God — i  curse  you!  I  curse  you!"  he 
shrieked,  "for  making  me  a  murderer!  I 
curse  you  because  you  have  forgotten  me — 
me,  a  white  man,  who  ought  to  be  a  gran'  no 
bleman!  I  curse  the  South  for  leaving  me 
to  grow  up  in  my  ig'rance  like  a  savage, — 
I  curse  them  that  sends  missionaries  to  the 
blacks,  but  sends  none  to  the  likes  o'  me. 
(Sh,  God,  have  mercy— have  mercy  on  me!" 


Stephen  the  Black  281 

He  threw  himself  on  the  ground  and  lay  there 
sobbing. 

From  the  negroes'  burial  ground,  half  a  mile 
away,  came  the  sound  of  children's  voices 
singing,  at  the  conclusion  of  the  burial  ser 
vice: 

"  He  has  sounded  forth  the  trumpet  that  shall  never  call 

retreat ; 
He  is  sifting  out  the  hearts  of  men  before  His  judgment 

seat: 

Oh !  be  swift,  my  soul,  to  answer  Him !  be  jubilant,  my 
feet! 

Our  God  is  marching  on." 

The  forlorn  creature  in  the  woods  sat  up  to 
listen.  A  look  of  superstitious  fear  crept  into 
his  eyes. 

"They're  allus  a-singin'  o'  what  their  God 
can  do.  Seems  like  He  must  be  bigger  an' 
stronger  'n  our  God — betimes.  I  hear  tell  the 
battles  allus  went  ag'in  us  from  the  day  the 
Yanks  put  fo'ward  them  black  regiments." 
He  staggered  angrily  to  his  feet  at  this  reflec 
tion. 

"  Ef  we  ain't  got  a  God  big  enough  to  fight 


282  Stephen  the  Black 

that  there  God  o'  theirs, — there  ain't  no  use  be- 
lievin'  in  Him  anyhow." 

Muttering  to  himself — shaking  first  his  head, 
and  then  his  fist, — the  poor  wretch  slowly 
made  his  way  to  the  miserable  cabin. 


THE  END. 


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LIBRARY,  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA, 

Book  Slip-25m-6,'66(G3855s4)4i 


N9   574001 

PS3531 

Pemberton,  C.H.         E515 
Stephen  the  black.     S8 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
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